


Spiral

by MagiCraft



Series: Ouroboros [5]
Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, M/M, Misunderstandings, awesome friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-10 00:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11680617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagiCraft/pseuds/MagiCraft
Summary: Their relationship seemed so perfect, despite its clandestine nature. It was hard to believe something as simple as an innocent photograph could throw their lives completely off kilter.





	1. Ouroborus

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ July/August 2009.

Aiba Masaki was not known for his calmness. He knew that there was some truth to this perception of him, but it was not entirely accurate either. In matters that concerned the welfare of others, he could be amazingly composed. He might lack the saintly patience of one Sakurai Sho, but he was not always as excitable as a kid at Christmas. 

Besides, it was hardly fair to compare the two friends. Next to the well educated, serious and ridiculously kind news caster, even Buddha would seem immature. And Aiba thought he was far too skinny to be Buddha. He openly confessed that he had a tendency towards over-excitement and that he sometimes had the attention span of a gnat, but he did know when it was time to settle down focus. 

Admittedly, the times he did need to put his nose to the grindstone were few and far between, and even then, they were mostly times when he was alone. Just because few people ever witnessed his more serious moments, did not mean he did not have them. Frankly, when Aiba really buckled-down, he could be just as productive as the other man. 

This was not one of those times. 

Bouncing impatiently from one foot to the other, he stood behind the sofa of the studio greenroom. His mid-length, chemically lightened, hair fell in front of his almond eyes as he leaned over the back of the furnishing and tried to get the attention of the man seated upon its cushions. While his friend worked quietly on his laptop, Aiba’s actions caused the sofa to vibrate with his movement. Sakurai Sho did not appear to notice. 

Sighing in a mixture of annoyance and boredom, the lithe young man addressed his busy friend. “Everyone left ages ago Sho-chan.” He complained. “I want to go home.” 

Taking his eyes from the illuminated screen for a moment, the slightly older male met Aiba’s gaze. “Then go ahead.” He replied evenly. A tolerant smile took the sting out of his words before he turned back to his work. 

Frustrated, the athletic young man literally flipped. Using his arms to pull himself up and over, Aiba Masaki somersaulted over the back of the sofa and landed lightly in the seat beside his long time friend. “Careful!” The well built man laughingly cautioned his hyper-active companion, leaning away from the man and cradling his laptop as if to shield the device. “What’s up with you today?” Sakurai asked with a grin. “You’ve been even more high tension than usual.” 

Resting his head on Sakurai’s shoulder the childlike man snuggled persuasively to the older mans side. “Nothing….” He replied unconvincingly. Aiba knew his answer would not fool Sakurai; they knew each other too well and too long to be able to truly deceive each other. While outsiders held a slightly skewed perception of their personalities, the two friends were close enough to see passed the veneer they crafted for the public. 

For ten years, both men had been working together in a group as Idols. Trained to sing and dance, they lived their lives under the scrutiny of the camera. Tailoring their public images and striving to meet the expectations of unpredictable fans, they sacrificed many freedoms. It was only within the group that they could and did reveal themselves more openly. And for Aiba Masaki, it was only to Sakurai that he exposed himself completely. 

Automatically, Sho put an arm around the shoulders of the younger man. “I’m nearly done with this.” He sighed; yielding to the tall mans distracting influence. “I can finish the rest tomorrow.” 

Aiba beamed triumphantly. “So you are still coming over to my place tonight?” 

“Of course.” His tone implied that Aiba should not have needed to ask. “I said I would, didn’t I?” 

The younger man agreed readily: “You did.” One thing Masaki felt the public had right was the perception of Sakurai’s reliability. While the well educated man sometimes acted silly for the cameras, he was utterly dependable. For that reason, he had been given the additional task of a news caster; work for which Aiba was currently interrupting. 

The young man felt a little guilty for distracting his diligent friend. Sakurai’s dedication to his work was, after all, one of the qualities he admired most in the man. His seemingly selfish actions, however, were not without reason. The tall Idol had made plans with the news caster; plans that could not wait for the next day. 

To that end, Aiba had invited Sakurai to his apartment that morning. His friend had seemed doubtful at first. The pair had already arranged to spend time together over the weekend, and Sakurai knew he would have work that needed completing. At Masaki’s insistence, however, he had conceded. 

Sho had always found it difficult to deny the vivacious young man anything. Lately, it had become simply impossible to refuse. 

The two men had been close friends for years, but a sort time ago, the relationship they shared had evolved. It had been some months since the friends had acknowledged that change and began dating. Their relationship could not be conducted in public, of course, but the pair was more than happy to keep their special liaison private. Of the thousands of people who watched the Idols’ lives, only the other members of their group were privy to the change in the status of Aiba and Sakurai’s bond. 

Although, Sho supposed Aiba’s manager knew more than he revealed; the man had come by too often, while Sho was visiting, not to be suspicious. But if the savvy businessman had any thoughts on his clients’ personal life, he did not voice them. 

Finally, the intelligent young Idol closed the laptop and the two men made ready to leave. “You know, Aiba-chan,” He began as he got to his feet and casually helped his partner up. “You still haven’t told me what this is all about.” He reminded the man. 

Bounding across the room the lighter haired man stood at the door, holding it open. “There doesn’t need to be a reason, does there?” He asked innocently. “Maybe I just want to see more of you.” 

Throwing his head back in a bark of laughter, Sho preceded him out of the room. “Masaki, we see each other nearly every day.” He pointed out as his boyfriend fell into step beside him. Side by side they walked down the empty corridor of the television station. 

“That’s different.” Aiba argued with a smile. “That’s work.” 

Sakurai could not dispute that fact. Truthfully, any private time they were granted as Idols, was short at best: Finding the time to be together in those rare moments often proved difficult. Quite aside from their various individual jobs, they also had commitments to their respective friends and families; none of whom were aware of the relationship between the pair. 

For that reason, the brawny young man did not mind putting aside his work for Masaki’s sake. However, he did not quite understand the younger mans insistence that it had to be that very night. “We are seeing each other on Saturday, after all.” He explained when he mentioned his reservations as the pair left the building. “It’s not like I’ll vanish in the space of twenty-four hours.” 

Sliding into the drivers’ seat of his car, Aiba waited for the other man to buckle in before replying. “That’s true.” He put the key in the ignition and started the engine. “But tomorrow afternoon isn’t today.” He added stubbornly. 

As the vehicle pulled out of the car-park and onto the road, Sho could only smile. He knew that the nonsensical words that came from his exuberant partner usually made perfect sense eventually. He had simply to exercise some of the patience he was so famous for, and everything would become clear. Relaxing into the passenger seat, the benevolent young man cast a sidelong look and the driver and waited. 

The journey passed in comfortable silence and it was only when they reached their destination that Aiba explained himself fully. 

The moment Masaki closed his front door he wrapped his long arms around the man in front of him. Sakurai, with his back to the man and in the process of toeing off his shoes, stumbled. “Whoa… that’s dangerous Masaki.” He admonished the man, although he did not sound entirely displeased. 

Aiba grinned. It was only here – behind the closed doors of his home – where the couple dared demonstrate their feelings openly. Treating each other with a certain degree of affection in public was permissible, but any further intimacy was strictly off limits for the celebrity men. Because of this and the fact that Sakurai still lived with his family, their ‘dates’ were limited to time spent together within Aiba’s home. 

Releasing the man with a quick kiss to his dimpled cheek, Aiba stepped out of his own shoes and led his boyfriend to the main room. Stopping abruptly in the middle of the room, he put restraining hands on Sakurai’s strong shoulders. “Wait a minute Sho-chan.” 

“Huh!?” Aiba disappeared swiftly down the hallway leaving Sho blinking in surprise. He heard the younger man banging around his bedroom. “Aiba-chan, what are you doing?” He called out. The muscular young man felt a little foolish stood in the middle of his boyfriends’ living room for no apparent reason. 

Masaki’s breathy tones drifted from the other room. “I have something for Sho-chan.” He sounded slightly distracted. “I’m looking f- Ah~! Found it!” Jubilantly he returned at full speed to the living room. 

Sho stared as the young man came to a stop in front of him. The taller mans eyes shone brightly and his smile lit up his handsome face. “Wh-what?” He stumbled over the word. The mixture of confusion at the situation and the constant amazement he suffered when in the company of the attractive young man left little room for rational thought. 

Breathless, excited and smiling with his whole being, Aiba extended the object in his hands towards the older man. “A present.” The skinny black box was about the same length as Aiba’s hand and unwrapped. He enjoyed watching Sakurai’s eyes widen and his jaw drop open. At Sho’s look of utter bewilderment, he chuckled. Masaki knew the man was wondering what occasion warranted a gift, and trying to recall if he had forgotten something. 

“Aiba-chan… this isn’t a special occasion.” After thinking about it carefully, Sakurai was sure of this fact. The conscientious caster was not the type to forget important dates. 

“Ah… but it is!” He stated a little smugly; the excitable young men did not often have the chance to outdo his kind friend and lover. “It’s a six-month anniversary!” 

Absently, the older man took the proffered gift, but made no move to open it. “Masaki,” he began instead, drawing the man with him toward the couch. “We’ve only been dating for four months…” He made the statement with a smile as they sat down. He used a teasing tone, however, with an expression that implied his boyfriend just might be deranged. 

Laughing because he knew he had the upper hand, Aiba clarified. “Of the first time I kissed you Sho-kun! You know, when it wasn’t just joking for a TV show or a concert?” 

“But that…” Sakurai thought back. “But that’s next week.” 

Aiba was elated – but not surprised – that Sho would remember that moment in their changing relationship, but it was not the moment he had meant. “Nope.” He shook his head for emphasis. “The first time I kissed you, was six months ago today.” 

“Eh? What are you talking about?” 

Smirking, Aiba leaned in close. “You were asleep.” He whispered conspiratorially. Aiba thought the dumbfounded shock on Sakurai’s fair features made it worth keeping the secret all this time. He also thought it made the man look adorably cute, but he chose not to say it aloud. Instead, he had a quick change of mood and nudged Sho impatiently. “Hurry up and open it!” He commanded, referring to the gift that the older man held loosely in one hand. 

Breaking out of his shock induced stupor, the chiselled young man gave his boyfriend a quelling look. “Wait a moment.” Arching a single brow he gazed sternly Masaki. “Why would you kiss me in my sleep? Why would you kiss anyone in their sleep? Do you go around looking for random sleepers and kissing them?” 

“No way!” He denied, playfully smacking Sho’s arm at the suggestion. Matter-of-factly, he added: “Nino dared me to do it.” 

Sakurai took a deep breath but, unable to find the appropriate words for this revelation, he simply expelled it again as a sigh. He had come to understand that, with Masaki, it was sometimes better not to ask questions. The younger man watched him expectantly as, with a wry curve of his lips, he focused on the small box in his hand. 

Opening the package, he studied the object inside. Attached to a long silver chain, the slightly gothic design of the pendant drew his eye. The image was one of a serpent biting its own tail, forming a perfect circle. A symbol of something that was both self-sustaining and eternal, the ornament glinted dully in the muted light of the room. 

The ebony haired man had always admired Aiba’s good taste, to the point that most of his favourite outfits had been selected by the tall man, yet he could not help being surprised. He wondered if the younger man had actually chosen the piece knowing the significance of the design or whether it was just the ascetic which appealed to him. Somehow, he did not want to ask directly, choosing instead to believe that Masaki had made the connection consciously. 

“Ah… thank you….” He said at length. Even to himself, the words seemed inadequate. 

“I know it’s not your usual style,” Aiba said brightly. “And you don’t have to wear it. But I thought it would suit you. It’s cool. It’s cool, right?” 

Sakurai nodded. Putting the box aside for the moment, he kissed the man he loved. When he broke away, Sakurai had his arm around the younger man and pulled him to his side. Snuggled comfortably together, with Aiba’s head resting on his chest, the couple relaxed. 

Sometimes, words were unnecessary.


	2. Parallels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakurai has always been a good person and a devoted son. He really can’t say ‘no’ to the people he cares about. But when two people he loves want two different and opposite things from him, who will he choose to obey?

It was still early when the incessant ringing next to his ear woke the young news caster from his pleasant dreams. Rolling over in the bed he reached blindly for his cell phone and answered groggily. “Hmm?” Beside him, Aiba stirred restlessly. “This is Sakurai.” He continued quietly.

“Sho-kun? It’s your mother.”

Suddenly fully awake, Sakurai sat up against the pillows. Moaning softly in slumber, his companion reached out for him. “Uh, good morning.” He replied softly. Absently, he stroked the forehead of his slender bedfellow soothingly; the young man could sleep through anything, but was prone to nightmares from which he also had trouble waking. It would not be good to have his mother hear Masaki crying out in sleep next to him.

“You don’t have any work tonight or tomorrow do you?” The soft contralto of his mother crackled over the line.

“No, I don’t…” He admitted. “But I do have plans for this evening.” He did not feel it was appropriate to mention what exactly he had planned. Doing things in private with other members of the Idol group he was a part of was nothing unusual. Spending an evening, night and the following morning at another members’ home, however, was hardly normal.

He heard his mother sigh. “You know I hate to ask this but…” She paused indecisively.

Sakurai Sho barely heard the words. Aiba had curled himself into a tight ball and whimpered softly. Biting his bottom lip he watched the younger man in concern. He wanted so badly to reassure his boyfriend with the sound of his voice, but did not dare say anything that might be overheard. “What is it?” He asked impatiently; he found himself eager to end the conversation and give his full attention to the sleeping man.

Sounding slightly put out by Sho’s uncharacteristically inattentive tone, his mother went on. “Would you cancel your plans please?” Before her son could object, she added in a rush: “Your father and I would like to talk to you. We were expecting you home last night, but…. Well, never mind that now, we would like to talk to you tonight. You’re always so busy, and this is quite important. We really don’t think it would bee too much trouble for y-”

“All right, all right.” Sakurai cut in, interrupting her spiel. “I’ll be there tonight.” He assured her, in a hurry to get off the phone. The moment he hung up, Sho carelessly tossed the device aside and put his sculpted arms around the young man alongside him. He knew it was unnecessary for him to comfort the younger man, Aiba never let his dreams affect his waking moments, yet Sakurai could not help himself.

Aiba had a vivid imagination and an active lifestyle that often manifested itself as nightmares in sleep. When Sakurai had first witnessed the man in the midst of his night terrors, they had been teenagers. Sharing a hotel room, Sho had woken up to the sound of the boy tossing and turning. Alarmed, he had tried to wake his friend only to have the young man scold him. Masaki had claimed that he did not really mind his nightmares; that they always made him happy to wake up the next morning. Sakurai had thought that it explained perfectly why Aiba was so hyper in the mornings.

Over the following years of their acquaintance, the older man also learned that Aiba did not dream at all if he went to bed exhausted. Thusly, the lanky young man never showed this side of himself to the other member during concert tours. Although, for some time, Masaki did sleep with a stuffed animal – just in case.

For Sakurai, however, who did not like seeing anyone suffer, the nightmares were a concern. On the nights he spent with his boyfriend, he usually tried to make sure the energetic man was thoroughly worn out before falling asleep. But evidently, Aiba’s excitement from his surprise last night had kept his energy level beyond that of rapper.

Time spent with his boyfriend, however, had taught him an alternative. Holding Masaki’s long frame in his arms, Sakurai spoke to the man. He did not say anything in particular; mostly he repeated nonsense words and sounds. It was just his voice, soothing and gentle, whispered into the mans ear that seemed to calm him. Tenderly, he stroked Aiba’s brow until the lines of tension finally melted away and the man slept peacefully.

Slipping carefully out of the bed and pulling on his jeans, Sakurai left the room. Aiba might wake up groggier than usual later, but the caster thought it was a small price to pay for his own piece of mind. In the main room, Sho turned on the news quietly. Listening to the headlines, he helped himself to breakfast. Since they had started dating, Aiba had taken to keeping his refrigerator stocked with some of Sakurai’s favourite foods.

Some twenty minutes later, while the caster washed his few dishes, Aiba Masaki shuffled into view. Still in his boxers, he ran his hands through his unkempt hair. Sho smiled at the sight. “Good morning.” He greeted the sleepy man brightly.

“You did it again, Sho-chan…” Masaki stated tonelessly. Taking a bottle of mineral water from the fridge, he drank deeply. “You know I don’t wake up well when I’m having good dreams.”

“But you weren’t having a good dream.” He countered with mock indignation. “You were having a nightmare.”

“No, no, no. It changed; it became good. That only happens with Sho-chan.”

“Seriously!?” Somehow, this information made him happy, despite his boyfriends’ apparent displeasure.

Masaki grunted wordlessly in response.

“Ah… don’t be mad Ma-chan.” Sakurai could not help but tease.

“I’m not mad.” The young man insisted irritably. “I’m tired.”

“Then why don’t you go back to bed?” The rapper suggested solicitously. “You’re not meeting your manager until lunchtime anyway, right?”

“Mmm.” Aiba replied vaguely as he stretched his long frame. “What about you?” He asked a little more alert than before. “What are you doing today?”

“Ah, well, I have to finish that report from last night then I have a magazine interview at eleven.”

“What time will you be over later?” The lithe man gave a yawn. “You might have to let yourself in if I’m not home by then.”

“Actually…” Sakurai regarded his friend guiltily. “I promised to see my parents tonight.” He confessed.

“Oh.”

At Aiba’s crestfallen expression, the shorter man cringed. “But-” He added quickly. “Neither of us is working tomorrow; we can still spend the day together like we planned.”

The younger man perked up immediately. “Well, in that case, I suppose it doesn’t matter. You did come last night.”

Sakurai was relieved. “Really?”

“Uh-huh.” Aiba assured him. “It’s disappointing, but you said it, right? We have all day tomorrow.” He shrugged wryly. “It’s just one night; it’s not the end of the world.”

Laughing self-consciously, Sho agreed. “That’s true.” Drying his hands on a dishcloth, he glanced at the clock. “I’m going to take a shower.” 

“Hang on, Sho-chan.” The tall man stepped in front of him and put his arms around him. “I’m awake now.” He said, leaning in to plant a kiss on Sakurai’s mouth. Automatically placing his own hands at Aiba’s bare waist, Sho pulled him closer. The younger man slanted his mouth over his boyfriends’ full lips and probed gently with his tongue.

Sho moaned pleasurably and rocked against the hard body that was pressed so closely to him. His hands explored the taut sinew of Masaki’s back. Sliding down, the caster rested his fingertips just inside the waistband of the slender mans boxers. “Masaki,” Sho withdrew only enough to get the words out; their lips brushed together as he spoke. “I really do need to get that shower: I have a lot to get done today.” He reminded his boyfriend. His attempt at an easy smile could not quite hide the hunger in his eyes.

Aiba’s full, wide mouth broke into a knowing grin. Arching his eyebrow brazenly, he took a step back. “Lead the way.” He motioned, with a sweeping gesture of one hand, for Sakurai to precede him. “And I will follow.”

Sho grasped that outstretched hand and pulled his giggling companion behind him. Laughing, the two men disappeared into the bathroom.

* * *

Despite running a little late that morning, the young news caster had managed to successfully complete his work. He had conducted his interview without a hitch and met with old school friends for a late lunch afterwards. It was early evening by the time Sakurai pulled into the driveway of his family home.

As he let himself through the door, the Idol was accosted by his exuberant little brother. “Welcome home!” The young teenage boy barrelled into the unsuspecting man and threw playful punches at his grown brother.

“OI!” Laughing, Sho pretended to flinch away from the flailing fists. “At least wait until I say ‘I’m home’!” Crouching suddenly, the man charged. Casually his folded the teenager over one shoulder and carried him into the air in an approximation of a fireman’s’ lift. While his little brother protested loudly and beat ineffectually at his back, Sakurai slipped out of his shoes. “Where are our parents?” He asked as he took a few steps into the hall.

At his question, the boy became still and Sho – sensing that the game was over – put his brother down. “Living room.” He answered with as scowl when he regained his feet. “They want to talk to you.” He spat the word like it was a curse.

“Alright, let’s go.” He took half a step forward before he realised the teenager made no move to follow.

“I’m not allowed…” The boy complained in the tones of disgust that teenagers reserved for adults who treated them like children. “Mother said it’s private.”

Sho smirked at his little brothers’ obvious dissatisfaction. “Then go upstairs.” He teased, shoving the adolescent gently toward the stairs. “And let the grown-ups… talk.”

Halfway to the second floor, the teenager stopped to address his brother before his was out of sight. “♪~You’re in trouble~♪” He sang tauntingly.

“Just go!” Sakurai commanded affectionately as his brother scrambled up the remainder of the stairs. “And no eavesdropping!” He added as he opened the door to the family room and slipped inside.

While he greeted his parents, the Idol wondered what they so badly waned to discuss. His mother sat rigidly in her seat, a too pleasant smile fixed in place. His father simply met his eyes over the top of his glass of beer and nodded at his son in acknowledgement. Sho felt something was definitely wrong, but could not define what.

Mind racing, he wondered if they had somehow learned of his relationship with Masaki. It was unlikely; he and Aiba had always been very careful and discreet. But sometimes, he reminded himself, parents just knew things. Like how his mother had known Sho was the one to spill her nail polish on the floor when he was seven, and not his little sister as he had claimed.

Yet, if his parents knew about him and Masaki, how did they feel about it? Had they called him home to give their blessing? They certainly did not seem angry or upset. To the critical eye of the news caster, his mother seemed both nervous and excited. Conversely, his father appeared uncharacteristically apathetic. Sho, who knew and loved his parents well, was unsure how to take this atypical behaviour.

“Sit down son.” He father said at length, when Sakurai had stood at the entrance of the room a little too long. “Your mother wants to speak to you.”

“We, dear, we want to speak to him.” She directed her words to her husband while Sakurai warily took a seat opposite them. He took an effort on his part not to drop to his knees.

“Mmm…”

At her husbands’ non-committal response, she turned to her grown son. “We want to talk to you about your… um… relationships.”

“Eh…” The young man sat up straighter and tried to find the words to speak. Did his mother want an explanation from him? Was she disappointed in her son after all? Sakurai had worked hard his whole life, driven by the desire to never let anyone down. But, for the filial Idol, the fear of disappointing his parents was always foremost in his mind.

He had made mistakes in the past that had troubled his parents and had become determined never to do so again.

He could only stare helplessly as his mother continued. “I know that your agency does not allow you to date publically. Not that it ever stopped you in the past–” Without slowing down, his mother interrupted herself. “Whatever happened to that nice An-chan girl, anyway? I liked her.”

“Confused by his mothers’ swift turn in the conversation, Sakurai answered doubtfully. “We only dated for three weeks in university. I was too busy with work so we broke up.”

“A shame…”

“Mother...” Sho suddenly did not like the direction this talk was taking. “That was seven years ago. She got married in 2005 and has two kids now.”

“Exactly! I’m not saying that you should break the rules and get married, Sho-kun.” She continued oblivious to the blood draining from her sons’ face. “But when was the last time you brought a girl home? I am sure that it will only be a few more years before the rules are relaxed for you. Wouldn’t it be better to have someone ready for that day? You don’t want to leave it too late, you know.”

Finally, Sho found his voice. “Uh… but… you know, I–”

Forestalling any possible argument from her son, the woman spoke over him. She seemed to want to overwhelm him with words. “And what about family? You’re always saying you want a family, but if you wait too long it’ll be too late. You cannot let that happen Sho-kun, you’ll make such a good father someday. And I want to meet my grandchildren.” She paused briefly for breath and looked to her husband for support. “Tell him, dear.”

Rolling his eyes so his wife would not see, the man gave his son a wry smirk. “Your mother wants grandkids, son.”

At the first mention of children, Sakurai Sho had drawn up short. It was true that he wanted a family someday. He knew that Aiba did too. But they had never discussed it since they had become a couple. Honestly, the news caster had not even considered the issue. All at once, it occurred to him that, in his relationship with his younger colleague, not only was he denying himself and his parents the joys of offspring; he was depriving Aiba as well.

Staring blankly at his hands folded in his lap, the young man replied softly. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.” He promised.

His mother beamed triumphantly. “Good! And I have the perfect girl in mind for you.”

Sakurai’s head shot up, his eyes wide. “What!?”

Seeing his sons’ distress, the older man addressed his wife firmly. “Now, don’t rush the boy.” He warned her.

“I am not.” The woman insisted stoutly. “I just think he should try meeting her. It’s still his choice, after all.” She returned her attention to her eldest child. “She’s very bright and pretty, you know. She was named after the wife of King Arthur and she studied Ancient Literature in Germany.” His mother, a professor of English Literature herself, was obviously very impressed by this fact.

Somehow, Sho found it difficult to achieve the same level of excitement.

“You will meet her, won’t you Sho-kun?” And the Idol flinched because his mother was very nearly pleading with him. “You will at least give her a chance?”

“….Yeah.” He breathed at lasted, defeated. “Yeah, I will. When?”

“Well, you’re off tomorrow. There’s no point in wasting time. I’ll call and arrange it now.” She stood to do just that.

Numbly, Sakurai nodded. Aiba had been wrong; for Sho, this one night was the end of his world.


	3. Tempest

Aiba Masaki was rarely ever truly angry. Stalking into the dressing room of V.S. Arashi, however, his displeasure was palpable. The three men already on standby in the room regarded him in surprise. Aiba was not really given to prolonged sulking – usually because he always got things his own way the moment he started – which is why the genuine pout worn by the tall man caught their attention. 

He flopped unceremoniously to the couch, falling against Ninomiya in the process. Aiba neither apologised nor bothered to remove himself from practically within his friends lap. Instead, the man sighed heavily and glanced briefly at the other occupants of the room. “Is Sho-kun here yet?” He asked in a low, dangerous voice. 

“He’s in the toilet.” Matsumoto informed him at the same moment Ninomiya began forcefully shoving the lithe man away. 

“Get off, you’re heavy!” 

Sullenly, Masaki scrambled out of his friends space, turning his attention to glare at the door to the bathroom. Ohno Satoshi, following the younger mans gaze, could not stay his curiosity. “Did something happen?” 

Before he could respond, Ninomiya cut in sarcastically. “Isn’t it obvious? Ma-kuns wife must have shrunk his briefs in the laundry. That’s why he’s walking around with a face like he’s in the middle of worlds’ tightest wedgie.” 

Jun was the only person who understood the musicians jibe, Ohno simply seemed confused and Aiba had been too focused on the door to really hear. He had stopped listening entirely when Sakurai had emerged from the bathroom at the last few words. 

As soon as his dark eyes lit upon the object of his ire, however, the tall Idol’s righteous anger evaporated. “Where were you Sho-chan?” He asked immediately, his words coming out in a whine. “We had plans, but you never showed and I couldn’t reach you at all…” 

“What’s this?” The diminutive gamer smirked maliciously. “You stood him up for your date?” He sounded impressed. 

Matsumoto shot him a quelling glare. “Nino…” 

Sakurai could not quite meet Masaki’s eyes. “Aiba-chan, I’m sorry…” 

“But look!” Ninomiya exclaimed, speaking to the youngest man and pointing at the scene excitedly. “It’s like one of those cheesy daytime dramas!” Folding his arms across his chest, the man settled happily back in his seat to watch. None of them quite believed that there could truly be any danger to their colleagues’ relationship. 

After giving his childhood friend a dirty look for his remark, Aiba turned back to his boyfriend. Opening his mouth to speak, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. At Matsumoto’s assent, the staff member stopped by briefly to inform the group that they were ready to start filming. 

The second the door closed on the back of the employee, Ninomiya Kazunari threw his head back and groaned dramatically. “Aw! It was just getting to the good part too.” He mocked. Nobody listened. 

The well-built rapper sighed. “Aiba-chan, I’m really sorry. I should have called, but I didn’t want–” 

“Picking himself up and approaching the couple, Matsumoto stood between them and cut their conversation short. “No, I’m sorry.” He apologised, placing a hand on a shoulder of both men. “But this will have to wait until after work.” Firmly, he gave the two older men a push towards the door. “You too, Nino.” He added swatting at the small mans legs in passing. 

“Yeah, I’m coming.” The would-be magician rolled his eyes and allowed himself to be herded by the younger man. 

Looking back as he shoved the three men out of the room, Jun paused. “Are you coming Leader?” He asked the quiet man. 

“Hmm? Uh, yeah….” Ohno replied slowly. As the others went ahead of him, Satoshi rose with a worried frown. He had not said much but he had been watching his group carefully. Having paid close attention to Sakurai and studied his expressions in particular, Ohno knew that something was not right. He was not sure how, but he sensed something ominous was just on the horizon. 

Yet, he could do nothing at this point, with only vague feelings and gut instincts to go on. Even as leader, all he could do was watch over his friends and pray that things did not get worse. With that prayer in mind, Ohno hurried to catch up with his group. 

Filming proceeded smoothly, with the same easy banter and inside jokes shared between the group of men as always. They received the normal compliments on their friendship and teamwork as always. Neither the guests nor the audience noticed anything amiss, but the majority of the group did. 

Not once did Sakurai speak directly to the tallest member of Arashi. Even when they were teamed together for Cliff Climb, Sakurai had passed the grips silently and directed his comments to the group at large. 

Aiba did not understand his friends’ strange behaviour, but he did not dare mention it. He reasoned that the older man was simply being more careful than usual, and tried not to let it bother him. So, when shooting was over and the five men returned to the dressing room to collect their belongings, Aiba was in relatively high spirits. 

Coming upon the older man unexpectedly, Masaki playfully swatted Sho’s arm. “What was that about, Sho-chan?” His smile slipped when he saw Sakurai flinch away from his touch, his expression shuttered. “What the– Are you mad or something? You know, I should be the one who’s mad.” 

“I’m not mad Aiba.” Sakurai’s voice was flat; toneless. “I need to talk to you.” 

“That’s exactly what we’re doing now, isn’t it?” 

“No, I mean…. In private.” The three uninvolved witnesses exchanged speculative looks while Masaki stared speechlessly and confused at Sakurai. 

Ninomiya, having decided that the atmosphere was a little too heavy for him, thought it would be wise to give his friends some space. “Ah, well, I think I’m going to head home first.” He announced loudly. None of the subtly or skill of his acting was evident in light of a real life drama. “I really want to beat the final boss on my game.” 

As the magician hastily gathered his things, Matsumoto followed his lead. “Yeah, and I really need to talk to the Director.” He explained no more convincingly. “Leader?” He asked pointedly while he and Ninomiya swiftly made their retreat. 

Ohno nodded once. The diminutive man made no excuses as he collected his bag and quietly left the room with the youngest pair. 

“Well?” Folding his arms defensively across his chest, Masaki fought to keep his tone even. The unsteady bob of the rappers adams-apple and his reluctance to meet his gaze man the younger man uneasy. He had never seen Sakurai act in such a manner before and his mind reeled with the wrongness of it. “We’re alone now….” He added when the shorter man remained silent. 

“I was wrong.” He spoke softly, but there was a hard edge to his voice; a tone of finality that Aiba did not like. 

“About missing our date?” Hoping against hope to diffuse the tense mood, the usually vivacious young man attempted to laugh it off. “That doesn’t matter anymore. It’s not like we don’t see each other often enough. And I’m sure you would have called if you could have. I’m not your keeper; I understand that something important came up, right?” He was speaking in a rush, made nervous by the dull gleam of Sho’s eyes. Aiba did not wait for an answer to his question; he was too afraid that it would not be the one he wanted to hear. 

“I don’t mind stuff like that really, Sho-chan. I was just feeling sorry for myself earlier. I know you wouldn’t do it on purpose, I’m sure–” 

“Stop it Aiba.” Sakurai finally cut into his tirade. His brow was drawn in anger and he held his arms stiffly at his sides. “I did do it on purpose.” He stated sharply, his hands balling into fists as he spoke. 

“What?” 

“I did it because I realised that I was wrong; we never should have started dating in the first place.” He explained; his jaw set determinedly. 

Masaki fought against the bile rising over the lump in his throat. “But… Sho-chan, please, this isn’t funny.” 

“I’m not joking.” The man replied tightly. He forced his voice to a more normal timbre as he went on. “I’m sorry, I really am. I’ve never had a friend like you before, and I mistook those feeling for something else. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.” 

With tears blurring his vision so that he could no longer make out Sakurai’s features, Masaki found no words to say to this. Not wanting his tears to fall where the other man could see, Aiba turned silently on his heel and left the room without argument or looking back. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep a steady pace and not run from the building at top speed. 

His chest ached and his lungs did not seem to want to breathe. His eyes burned, his limbs felt heavy and laden and his head spun sickeningly. Yet, as much as he felt as though he had been physically assaulted, he felt completely numb inside. It seemed to him like he was walking through a dream, except none of his nightmares had ever been quite this bad. Blindly, he stumbled through the corridors, praying that no one would come upon him in his current condition. 

Obviously, God did not listen to heartbroken Idols, Aiba decided. Just before he made it to the exit, he was spotted; by Matsumoto Jun, no less. 

The sharp young man took one look at Aiba’s sorry state and took him by the elbow. Asking no questions he bundled the broken man outside and into his car. Masaki made no protest – no sound at all, in fact – for the length of that journey. He simply sat quietly in the passenger seat with his heels upon the seat and his arms around his knees. For once, Jun did not scold him for putting his feet on the upholstery. 

Once inside the well appointed home of the younger man, Aiba allowed his friend to lead him to the table. Matsumoto sat the man down and disappeared into the adjoining kitchen. He returned swiftly with two glasses and a large bottle of wine. 

Pouring a generous amount of the dark red liquid into Masaki’s glass, Jun took the chair next to him. “Drink.” Trembling, Aiba downed the beverage and presented the glass for a refill. Matsumoto obliged and reach over to stroke his friends head in concern. “Did you have a fight?” He asked gently. 

Masaki shook his head. “No.” A broken sob escaped his throat, and with it, the tears that had been swimming in his eyes finally spilled down his cheeks. Burying his face in his arms resting on the table, his shouldered heaved. 

Hurting for his friend, Jun rubbed his back comfortingly and waited for the man to explain. 

It took a few minutes for the taller man to get enough control over his breathing to speak. “We didn’t fight. We never fight, not really.” Aiba lifted his head to take another drink. “But Sho-chan, he…” 

“It’s alright, Aiba-chan.” Jun assured him kindly. “Take your time.” 

“He said it was a mistake.” Masaki nearly choked on the last word. Swallowing around the lump in his throat and taking a shuddering breath, he continued. “He said we never should have been together.” And Aiba cried then, unable and unwilling to hold anything in. 

Leaning over, Jun pulled the weeping man into a hug. Wordlessly, he simply held the man and let him sob into his shirt; there was nothing he could say. 

For a long time, the pair stayed like that: With Aiba rocking in his embrace and Matsumoto offering what comfort he could. Until the older man finally ran out of tears and his cries became sniffles. At length, Masaki mumbled into Jun’s chest. “It doesn’t make sense…” He remarked bitterly. “He called me his friend and he dumped me.” 

“I’m sorry, Aiba-chan.” Matsumoto told him sincerely. “I know that must have been painful.” 

The older man pulled away roughly. “Please don’t apologise.” He snapped, his reddened, puffy eyes flashing dangerously. “Sho-chan already did that enough.” 

“I understand.” Matsumoto sighed. “You probably don’t want to hear this right now but-” 

“Then don’t say it.” 

“As expected…. You’re really angry right now.” 

Aiba gave a bitter laugh. “Of course I am! How could he do that? Just out of nowhere?” 

Jun drank deeply of his wine to steel himself. He knew he would have to play the devils advocate in order to help the heartbroken man. “Would you rather he had waited until your relationship had gone sour and you could no longer stand the sight of each other anymore?” 

“Huh?” The doe-eyed Idol was thrown by Jun’s sudden change in attitude. Just a few seconds ago the younger man had been sympathetic, now he seemed to be taking a different view. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I mean, maybe he did you both a favour.” Forestalling Aiba’s imminent objection with one raised hand, he continued reasonably. “If Sho-kun thought you guys weren’t working out together, isn’t it better to end it sooner rather than later?” 

Masaki looked thoroughly betrayed. “You’re cruel.” He whispered hoarsely. “How can you say that?” His eyes shone with tears again, but stubbornly, he held them back. 

“Just listen.” Matsumoto insisted, more gently this time. “Whether you guys are together or not, you still have to work together. The five of us were Arashi before you started dating and we will be Arashi after. At least, this way, there is a chance you two can still be friends.” 

Aiba regarded him with a mixture of hope and fear. “You really think that?” He wondered; unsure whether the thought pleased or appalled him. “You really think he still want to be my friend?” 

“I do.” 

“But what about me!?” Masaki wailed desperately. “I love him. Am I supposed to go back to the way things were before, like nothing ever happened? Am I just supposed to forget all the things he said to me? All the stuff we did together? I can’t do it Jun-chan. I won’t!” 

Patiently, the ebony haired Idol sat back in his chair and observed his friend coolly. “I see… Aiba-chan would put his own feelings before the rest of the group.” 

“Eh!?” 

“I guess Arashi isn’t as important to you as I thought. Matsumoto continued relentlessly. “And you obviously don’t care much about Sakurai if you’re willing to end a ten-year friendship over a four-month relationship that went bad.” 

Aiba was stung. “Stop it!” He pleaded. “I never said that.” He whimpered. “It’s just that…. He is my friend, but I-” 

“I know.” The younger man softened, taking Aiba’s hand and squeezing it supportively. “It’s not going to be easy, but eventually, it will stop hurting. Your friendship is too precious to be destroyed by this.” 

Still shaken with the events of the day and trembling with a myriad of conflicting emotions, Masaki agreed. “We have a magazine interview tomorrow.” He informed Jun quietly. “Me and Sho-kun. The theme was picked by Captain last time…” 

“Oh? What did he choose?” 

“Friendship.” Somehow, the irony of it all forced the tears from his eyes, and he let them fall, silently this time. There was no real emotion behind them anyway, just a strange sort of emptiness. 

Matsumoto seemed to understand this; standing, he moved behind his friend and rubbed his shoulders, kissing the crown of his head paternally. “You’re staying here tonight.” He told the taller man, speaking into his hair. “I’ll drop you off at the shoot myself.” 

“O.K.” 

“And no matter what happens, Aiba-chan.” Jun began, straightening up be keeping his hands at Masaki’s shoulders. “Just remember that you were friends first. Friendship came before anything else.” 

Closing his eyes against the ache in his chest, Aiba nodded. “I remember.”


	4. Philos

The unseasonably good weather seemed to irritate the educated Idol as he made his way to work. The warm sun and clear blue sky simply did not fit his grey mood. It felt wrong that a day that promised to be so bad for him personally could be so perfect. However, he was glad for the excuse to keep his cap lowered over his bloodshot eyes. 

The man had not slept well the previous night; tossing and turning until dawn had lit the horizon. An extended lukewarm bath and three rare cups of coffee had failed to revive him sufficiently. His eyes were red and ringed with dark circles, his face puffy and his skin pasty with exhaustion. Idly, he felt sorry for the make-up staff; they were going to have a difficult job of making him presentable. 

With a remarkable lack of motivation, Sakurai arrived at the venue of the interview and photo-shoot. Just a few days ago he had been looking forward to collaborating with Aiba on this cross-talk. He remembered the sleepy, yet sly grin Satoshi had worn when he had looked Sho directly in the eye and suggested the topic of friendship to the interviewer. He had been pleased then; knowing that the older man had been simultaneously teasing and approving his relationship. 

Now that relationship was over – ended by his own hand – and he had to face his former lover and talk to a stranger about their abiding friendship. All he could do was hope that their friendship would indeed endure. 

Masaki was already finished with the stylist by the time Sakurai was greeting the reporter. The younger man did not look over, supposedly absorbed in conversation with his manager. On his way to change, Sho greeted him with a tight smile and a nod. He was pleasantly surprised when the man smiled back and gave a small wave. Relived, Sho felt a little better as he sat down and allowed various stylists and make-up artists begin their work. 

Truthfully, Aiba had responded automatically at the sight of the other man. Years of being happy to see his friends had conditioned his body to react involuntarily on sight. While he was not unhappy to see Sakurai, he was hardly enthusiastic about it either. Turning self-consciously back to his manager, Masaki tried to return to their conversation, but found himself unable to concentrate on the other mans’ words. In his mind, the events of yesterday replayed repeatedly. He made an effort to focus on something else but it proved hopeless; especially when Sakurai reappeared, fully primped and properly styled by trained professionals. 

They were asked to pose for the camera together first and, separately, both men were thankful that for this interview, only a few pictures were needed. Aiba found he could get through it as long as he could pretend the previous day had not happened. It was surprisingly easy to do while Sho stood next to him with a smile and an arm thrown casually around his waist. 

For the all too fleeting moments while the camera was trained upon the pair, Masaki could make believe everything was fine. It did not occur to him that Sakurai might feel the same way. 

Things became more difficult when it came time to talk. The interviewer was a young woman, at least five years their junior, with too much lipstick and no regard for personal space. Sat entirely too close to men who were uncomfortable enough in each others’ presence – never mind that of a stranger – she smiled and began her ritual interrogation. 

“So, Sakurai-kun, Aiba-kun, last time Ohno-kun suggested you two give your thoughts on friendship.” She spoke with the false familiarity that was supposed to make the men feel at ease. “We all know that Arashi is known for being very close, but what are your thoughts on your bond, as a group and individuals?” She sat back slightly then, pen poised over her notebook and waited for one of them to speak. 

Aiba was still trying to compose a reasonable answer and work some moisture into his mouth when Sakurai replied: “Obviously, it’s important.” To anyone who did not know him well, Sho’s response seemed normal enough. But Aiba could tell immediately that the older man had gone into ‘news caster’ mode; his voice carefully measured and neutral. “Being friends and supporting each other is just something that happened naturally over time. It’s not that Arashi was formed and we all said to each other ‘let’s all be friends’.” 

Knowing he could not stay silent for the whole interview, Masaki forced a grin and nodded enthusiastically. “That’s right. Friends are great, huh? You get to do stuff together and laugh about things.” He did not look at Sakurai as he spoke, but rather, he focused on the strangers’ overly made-up face instead. 

“Hmm….” The older man also avoided eye contact with his colleague and contemplated his own hands. “Of course, it’s been said before, but we really weren’t all that close to begin with. I think the best friendships are those that develop slowly over time, rather than trying to force yourself into someone else’s life.” 

The woman looked up from busily taking notes. “Clearly Arashi are all very close.” She agreed. “But what about you two? What kind of friends are you? Do you see each other in your private time?” 

“What kind-?” Aiba licked his lips nervously, but managed to exchange his apprehension for a breathy laugh before the interviewer could notice. “Just normal friends, I guess.” He answered quickly, praying that the sudden cold sweat upon his brow was not too noticeable. “We have some mutual acquaintances outside of work too, so we do see each other occasionally.” If the woman realised he had spoken more formally than normal, she made no mention of it. 

Sho glanced at the man from the corner of his eye and gave an almost imperceptible nod. Masaki had spoken the truth; if not the whole truth and Sakurai wondered just how true that statement would be in the future. Would they still be able to meet casually for dinner or drinks with the friends they shared? He knew it was selfish of him, but he desperately wanted Aiba’s forgiveness. As much as he wished to be away from the younger man at that moment, the thought of being cut out of his life completely scared the rapper silly. 

“That’s true.” Sakurai risked looking at the man beside him and found Masaki’s eyes already upon him. “We’ve gone out drinking fairly often, right?” 

“Ah, we do, we do.” His whole body shook with nervous tension and Aiba held tight to the seat of the folding metal chair to keep himself planted in place. Turning quickly back to the woman, he continued. “I hang out with Nino-chan a lot too; we’ve played golf and I’ve gone to his house to play games. And I had dinner with Matsujun just yesterday.” 

“You did?” Sakurai could not keep the words from tripping from his tongue. While the woman failed to pick up on his incredulous reaction, Masaki did not. 

“Yeah…” Aiba hoped that the slight twist at the corner of his mouth would be mistaken for a smirk. “I didn’t have much of an appetite though, so I got scolded by him.” 

Laughing politely at what she perceived as just another humorous Arashi anecdote, the woman faced the older man. “What about Sakurai-kun? Is there any member you tend to spend more time with or are especially close to?” 

“Uh, um… no, I don’t think so. It’s probably about the same for each person.” His assertion would have been a lie if he had said it just twenty-four hours before. He made it now as a prediction, hoping that he would get to spend at least as much time with Aiba as he did with everyone else in the future. “And clearly, we all see a lot of each other through work anyway.” 

“I see, I see.” The young woman nodded earnestly. “Friendship is certainly a precious treasure for Arashi. Well then, I would like to wrap up this short talk with a few questions sent in by our readers.” With the approval of the two men, the woman riffled through her notes and began reading the questions. 

Te questions themselves were nothing unusual and, despite their unease, the men were able to respond simply. They had both dealt with such queries so frequently that they were even able to answer for each other. When the final question was directed at Aiba and both men gave the same reply at the same moment, the clueless woman laughed and praised their unwitting synchronisation. 

While she uttered some inane closing remarks and ended the short cross-talk, the Idols regarded each other warily. The fragile semi truce they had held during the interview was uncertain. With work now over, neither man was quite sure how to proceed. The weighted silence hung over them until it was broken by the approach of Aiba’s manager. 

“Masaki-kun, I just got off the phone with that producer about that drama–” 

The businessman was cut short by Sakurai suddenly rising to his feet. “I’m going to change.” He announced to no one in particular and made a beeline for the dressing room. 

“Masaki-kun,” the astute young executive addressed his client carefully. “What’s going on?” He had been started by Sakurai’s obvious discomfort and swift retreat and was concerned by the younger mans defeated reaction to it. “You haven’t been yourself all morning and now, Sakurai-kun is acting like a deer caught in the headlights.” 

“…Nothing.” The tall man lied unconvincingly. “I guess I’m just tired.” He said after a pause, slowing getting to his feet. 

“And I suppose Sakurai-kun is just busy?” His manager scoffed sardonically. “I don’t think so, Masaki. If something has happened that might affect your work, you need to tell me about it.” 

“It’s nothing.” The Idol repeated defiantly, moving toward the exit as he spoke. “And it won’t affect my work.” 

“It just did.” The man countered evenly, stopping his charge. “Unless you were planning on keeping that outfit and wearing it to the Shimura studio recording we have to be at in less than an hour?” 

“Eh?” Glancing down at himself, Aiba grinned sheepishly. “Oh, you’re right.” He took a step towards the dressing room but then hesitated suddenly. “Um… maybe I’ll just wait until Sho-chan is finished changing first.” 

The manager stared, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. Closing the distance between them, he spoke in low tones to avoid being overheard by the magazine staff still milling around. “Since when did you ever wait for someone else before barging in? You don’t even wait for an unoccupied stall before going for a shower if it’s just another member.” 

Aiba could not dispute this but did not know how to explain his feelings to his manager. He was so confused; he could not even explain his emotions to himself. He wanted to be angry with Sho for breaking up with him without a proper explanation. He wanted to rage at the older man, but did not want to lose his friend at the same time he lost his lover. 

He wanted to talk to the man but was afraid of being alone with him. Afraid of what Sakurai might say and afraid that he had left too much left unsaid himself. He had been unspeakably glad to see the rapper that morning and horribly saddened by the reminder of his loss. In his current state, Aiba thought that entering the same room as the half-naked, flustered news caster would just be inviting trouble. 

The silence stretched between them as the Idol was lost to his thoughts. He did not know what to say; he had never told his manager about his relationship with Sakurai in the first place. Confessing everything now just seemed pointless. 

As if he had read his clients mind, the older man leaned in and whispered conspiratorially close to his ear, making the tall Idol jump. “I know.” Then it was Aiba’s turn to stare. “I know all about you and Sakurai-kun dating.” 

Lowering his head, Aiba let out a groan. “We’re not.” 

“Please, Masaki-kun,” the man sighed with exaggerated patience. “I probably knew about your relationship before you two even realised you were in one. If you both came up with this performance today to throw me off, you needn’t have bothered.” 

“We’re not dating.” Aiba hissed more forcefully. 

“You don’t have to deny it to me.” The manager assured his client. “I’m not against it; it’s your private life, after all. As long as it remains private and the pair of you continue to be careful, it’s fine. I’m hardly going to tell the agency and tattle my way out of a job, you know.” 

“No, I don’t know. And neither do you.” Speaking in a mumbling monotone, Masaki admitted the truth to the man. “We are not dating, not anymore. Sho-chan ended it.” 

Genuinely surprised by this new information, the businessman did not think before he spoke. “Ah, so that’s why–” He blurted. Realising his error, he stopped himself from completing the tactless statement. Taking a breath he asked carefully: “When was this?” He usually prided himself on knowing everything about what was going on in Aiba’s life and he wondered how he could possibly have missed something so important. 

“Just yesterday.” The young man clarified. 

Unbidden, another question escaped his lips. A single word, he regretted the moment it sounded: “Why?” 

“That’s what I would like to know.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Sakurai emerge from the dressing room, having obviously changed quickly. Silently he tracked the mans progress as his left and then, with grim determination, he straightened up. “But I guess it doesn’t really matter. I’m going to change.” 

The manager could only look on helplessly as the Idol vanished into the other room. Shaking his head as if to deny the facts he had been given, the man took out his cellular phone. As he hit the speed-dial and brought the device to his ear, he thought about all the good things that came with working for someone like Masaki. The devoted businessman had held his position for ten years and cared a great deal about his job. But he cared about Aiba a great deal more. “It’s me.” He stated without preamble when the other person came on the line. “You and I need to talk.” 

* * * 

It was the day following the interview and Sakurai Sho felt in much better shape – relatively speaking. As awkward as he had felt at the start of the interview and once it was over, while they had been working, Sakurai felt that things between he and Aiba had been almost normal. It had given him hope that they could still work together and the group would not suffer for his actions. 

With this thought to comfort him, Sho had actually slept and was able to look forward to the shoot for Arashi no Shudukai-kun later that day. It was not that he was happy about what he had done, but he was reassured that it had been the right thing to do. Even so, he had been both thankful and hurt by Masaki’s lack of protest to the break-up. The lack of any reaction at all, if fact. 

The way Sakurai saw it, Aiba had simply left the room, had dinner with Jun and attended work the next day as if nothing unusual had occurred. But then, the caster reasoned, perhaps for the younger man that was true. It might just be a sign of Masaki’s resilience. Or it was a sign that the younger man had not been as invested as he had thought. 

Sakurai did not understand why that thought should be so painful; he had only himself to blame, after all. 

His improved sleep had failed to completely clear his mind of these thoughts. Of course, it did not help that he had been woken ridiculously early by a summons from his manager. The middle-aged man had demanded to see him immediately and refused to say what it was about. The Idol had dressed and left his family home just as the sun was rising. 

Arriving at the office of his manager, the young rapper was more curious than worried. The capable businessman was normally fairly laid-back and level-headed; the urgent phone call that morning was distinctly out of character. The terse reply Sho received, however, when he knocked on the door, gave him pause. Cautiously entering the office, he hesitated at the sight of the man. 

Sitting at the desk with his brow drawn and his mouth a thin, hard line, the man did not seem pleased. His dark hair, sprinkled lightly with grey at the temples, had only been roughly combed in place and his suit was slightly rumpled. He looked as though he had been in too much of a hurry –or was too angry– to care about his usually impeccable appearance. “Sit down.” He commanded shortly, his square, unshaven jaw was clenched tight making his words clipped. 

When Sakurai quickly complied, the middle-aged man rose to his own feet and stood over the man from behind his desk. “I was going to talk to you later today about a phone call I got yesterday.” He began his voice ominously low. “But then, when I got up this morning and went to buy my normal cup of coffee….” The man trailed off, casually picking up a magazine from his desk and studying the cover. “Do you know what I saw?” He asked. 

Scared now, Sakurai shrugged helplessly. “…No.” He admitted quietly. 

“THIS!” The man roared, throwing the magazine onto the desk so that it slid over to his client and into the Idol’s line of sight. 

His eyes widened and he paled. He could feel the bile rising in his throat as he saw the headline splashed in bright red across the cover of the tabloid: 

[Sakurai Sho of Arashi and his Illicit Affair!?] 

The tabloid boasted that pictures could be found within. 

Arms crossed and one hip braced on his desk, the furious manager gave his shell-shocked client a hard stare. He made one simple demand: “Explain.”


	5. Sacrosanct

He studied the pictures with a sort of morbid fascination. The images were not the grainy black and white shots so often seen in tabloids and all too easy to fake. They were high quality photographs that displayed their subjects in perfect detail. 

The three pictures all showed essentially the same scene: The first shot revealed Sakurai Sho entering a restaurant accompanied by an unknown young woman. The second depicted Sakurai Sho holding the door to the private dining room for that same woman. And finally, there was a slightly rushed shot of the pair getting into the same car as they left. 

Sat in the backseat of his own vehicle as his manager drove him to the studio, Aiba could not tear his eyes from the sensationalist magazine. He had not been able to bring himself to read the actual story past the first paragraph. Instead he examined the features of the mystery woman in great detail, as if he wanted to engrave her likeness upon his memory. 

With almost an almost clinical detachment, Masaki concluded that she looked happy to be with Sakurai. He did not look closely at the man in the images; he did not want to know if Sho had been as pleased to be in her company. He knew it was childish and meaningless to think about such things, but still, he could not help it. 

Ever since his manager had turned up at his door that morning, over an hour early and clutching a copy of the damning tabloid, Aiba’s mind had shunned all rational thought. Masaki had not heard his manager as he had tried to explain the situation. The pounding of his heart and the rush of blood ringing in his ears had deafened the Idol to all but his own racing mind. 

Frantically, Aiba had demanded to go straight to the studio, despite the relatively early hour. He could not explain exactly why he felt the need to leave right away. He was acting on impulse and half-formed thoughts. He knew it was too soon for any of the other members to be there, but that did not matter: The other member would be there – sooner or later. 

It was a place where all his friends gathered frequently. It was a place where the five men came together and supported each other. The studio was magic to him and the familiar greenroom was safe. Even if he was alone for an hour, he would be secure and he would be there when his friends arrived. Deep down, he knew he needed the other men to protect him from his own dark thoughts. 

When Aiba finally came to his refuge, he entered gratefully. What he found caused him to momentarily doubt his judgment. Someone else had gotten there before him and claimed sanctuary in the greenroom. Hunched forlornly on the couch with his head in his hands, Sho did not stir at Aiba’s intrusion. 

Locked as he had been in his own heartbreak, Masaki had not considered how Sakurai might feel. He should not have been surprised that, as the man at the centre of the scandal, Sakurai would also seek refuge in this place. Seeing him now, however, silent and broken, the empathetic young man ached for him. It hurt to see the man he loved so defeated and Aiba desperately wanted to flee from that pain. 

But the tall man could not run away. Aiba could not abandon his friend just when Sho needed a friend most. Although it hurt that he could not be the lover that the other man wanted, he knew he had to be the comrade that he needed. 

Stepping slowly closer towards the despondent form of his friend, Masaki spoke gently. “Sho-chan…?” 

Sakurai’s only response was to sigh and bury his head further into his hands. Aiba decided to put his own feelings aside and carefully lowered himself to sit next to the silent man. “Sho-chan,” He coaxed softly, his arm reaching out to rest supportively upon Sakurai’s slumped shoulder. “Are you alright?” 

“…You’re early.” His toneless reply was muffled by his hands and he made no move to meet Aiba’s concerned gaze. 

“You too.” The tall man counted quietly. He leaned towards the older man, trying to catch his eye and squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. 

Finally, Sho lifted his head and sat up. The sudden action forced Aiba to pull away, but he studied Sakurai’s expression closely. Yet the caster did not look to his friend; he fell back against the cushions and raised his face to the ceiling. “You saw the pictures.” He stated it as fact; he did not need to ask. Staring blankly into the middle distance, the older man sighed. “I’ve been here since eight.” 

Masaki shifted his own position to sit sideways on the sofa with his legs drawn up and loosely tucked under himself. With one arm braced against the back of the seat and resting his chin on his elbow, the lithe Idol examined Sho’s profile. “Is it bad?” He asked at length. He was scared for the older man and felt completely useless. He wanted to reach out and embrace him; to tell the rapper that everything would be fine, but he did not dare. 

Sakurai was silent for long seconds before he finally shook his head and replied: “Not really.” He explained, a touch of bitterness creeping into his voice. “It was the middle of the day and we were in plain sight; there really isn’t much of a story except that I had lunch with a woman.” 

As relieved as Masaki was to know that his friend was not in any trouble with work, he was still hurting for himself. “So…” Biting his bottom lip Aiba wished Sho would just look at him. “You’re not in any trouble with the agency?” 

In a fit of frustration, Sakurai jumped to his feet and stormed across the room. Picking up a copy of the tabloid he had obviously thrown to the floor earlier, he leafed through its pages. Finding the incriminating article he returned to stand over his stunned friend. “Look at this–” Thrusting the magazine under Aiba’s nose, the caster continued indignantly. “See the person in the background? The woman whose face has been blurred out? That’s not just another customer who got into the shot. It’s my mother.” 

“Eh!?” The seated man looked up from the picture to regard his friend. “Then the woman you’re with….?” 

Having released some of his tension in his angry march across the room, Sakurai felt calmer. Lowering himself to the couch, he sat more normally. “She’s one of my mothers’ former students.” 

For a few brief moments, Aiba allowed himself to hope that everything would be alright. “I see, so you’re not dating her.” He realised how relieved he felt, but was careful not to let it show through in his voice. 

When Sakurai finally met his eye, however, the younger man learned of his mistake. “No. My mother came along just in case something like this did happen.” He explained. The stoic, fixed expression he wore with his next words, knotted Masaki’s stomach. “It was a date, Aiba-chan. When I didn’t show up the other day.… I was with her.” 

Mentally, Aiba reeled. Deep down, the moment he had seen the pictures, he had known this. Yet, hearing Sho state it so plainly was like a kick in the gut. Wanting nothing more than to collapse in on himself and weep, Masaki held himself completely motionless. It was then that he remembered his promise to Matsumoto. 

Aiba had sworn to the younger man that he would be strong and remain a friend to Sho. He had vowed that he would not allow his private life to affect his work. And he had pledged to himself that he would not oppose the decision made by the man he loved; even if that decision was to love someone else. 

The shaken young man struggled to keep himself together. For the sake of their longstanding friendship, he believed the best thing he could do was to support Sho in this. Still, it was not easy and it took him a long time to find enough strength to speak. “That’s…. I mean, I-I kind of figured that out for myself.” He said at last. He conjured up a weak smile that he was sure fooled no one. 

Aiba’s reaction, however, confused Sakurai. He had expected the other man to be angry with him; he would have welcomed his ire, in fact, or Masaki’s indignant recriminations. He had been prepared for anything but what he saw as Aiba’s apparent indifference to the breakup. 

He would have been less hurt if the tall man had raged and thrown punches at him. As it was, Sho began to question whether their relationship had ever meant as much to Masaki. He wondered if Aiba had simply considered their situation convenient. He hated the fact that their time together had left the younger man so seemingly unaffected. But he despised himself more for thinking that way. 

It was not that he wanted Aiba to suffer; quite the opposite, in fact. Sho had always been prepared to do anything to protect the bright-eyed Idol from harm. Yet, the part of himself that still loved Masaki fiercely, wanted some sign that the young man had taken their relationship seriously. He needed proof that his presence in Aiba’s life had held some significance. 

It was hypocritical and Sho knew that, but his heart did not seem to care. He had told Aiba that he had mistaken friendship for love and lied. Selfish though it was, he could not bear the thought that the tall man had done the same in truth. 

Sakurai was pulled from his private reprieve by the breathy sounds of Masaki’s voice breaking the extended silence. “You know….” He began looking at the tabloid pictures closely, his voice pitched in tones of reassurance. “She’s very pretty; you look good together.” 

“What?” The caster asked more sharply than he had intended. He did not want to be told by the man he loved that he looked better in the company of someone else. 

Masaki recoiled slightly. Eyes wide, he hurried to make himself clear. “Ah, I mean…. Uh, because she isn’t flashy, you know?” He rambled anxiously, his volume decreasing with each word. “She looks ordinarily pretty; normal… nice. S-she… suits you.” He finished at length, his voice trailing away into an uneasy silence. 

Sakurai could take it no longer. In one swift motion he tore the magazine from the young mans grasp and tossed it aside. And while the man remained frozen in shock, Sho pulled Aiba to him. He embraced him fiercely; locking his arms around the tall mans neck. Wordless and desperate, he breathed in the familiar scent of Aiba’s shampoo and bathed in his comfortable warmth. He never wanted to let go. 

Masaki, completely immobilised by the unexpected action, held himself very still. He was obviously surprised and uncomfortable with Sho’s sudden embrace. After some time with Sakurai just clinging to him, however, the younger man finally reacted. Awkwardly, he patted Sakurai’s back where he could reach. “Ah… Sh-Sho-chan? Um… It’s OK. You d-don’t have to worry.” As he spoke his words of reassurance, his own voice gradually became more firm. “I’ll support your relationship; I’m your friend, right?” 

Slowly, silently, the rapper released the man. It took every bit of willpower he possessed to nod and force a single word from his tight throat. “Friends.” He agreed, feeling sick to his stomach. Sakurai had never before known that Aiba’s kindness could feel so cruel. 

In an effort to collect his thoughts, he excused himself quickly and took refuge in the bathroom. Locked away in the privacy of the stall, Sakurai allowed his tears to fall soundlessly down his cheeks. He wept for everything he had given up and for what he thought he never had in the first place. It was a long time before he felt strong enough to face Aiba once more and return to the greenroom. 

When he did emerge, he saw that they were no longer alone. Ninomiya and Matsumoto now occupied the space on either side of the tallest man. The young gamer was idly shuffling a deck of cards and greeted Sakurai with a nod of acknowledgement when he saw the man. 

“’Morning.” He addressed the caster casually. 

Sho returned the salutation, deeply relieved that he and Aiba would not be alone. “You guys came early too?” 

Jun looked up from the comic he had borrowed from Ninomiya and shrugged. “I guess we just felt like getting an early start.” He answered. 

For the first time that day, Sakurai felt himself smile with genuine feeling. Even after everything he had done, the other members did not hold it against him. And as much as he railed against Masaki’s friendship, he still treasured it greatly along with the rest of the group. They did not need to explain the real reason they had arrived early; Sho knew. 

Feeling lighter, he grinned at the group gathered on the couch. “It’s not a big deal, you know.” He assured them, referring to the supposed scandal. 

Ninomiya rolled his eyes. “We know.” He scoffed. “We read the story.” 

Matsumoto laughed. “What story?” He asked rhetorically. Clearing his throat he quoted the tabloid dramatically. 

“‘Arashi’s Sakurai Sho was seen dining this weekend at a family restaurant in the company of a mystery woman. They were served in a private dinning room where they remained hidden for nearly three hours before finally emerging and leaving in the same vehicle.’” 

“Who the hell cares?” Kazunari muttered in disgust. “That’s all the detail they have, and that’s just the opening paragraph. The rest just talks about the staff being surprised to see you, geez…” 

“Besides,” Jun added with a smirk. “It’s not exactly a reputable publication.” 

Sho laughed. “That’s true. They edited the pictures so that my mothers face couldn’t be seen.” 

The two youngest men unintentionally did a double-take and chorused each other at the same time. “Your mother!?” 

Relaxed in the company of his friends, Sakurai settled down to tell them the real story. He did not say, however, that it really had been a date. 

Ohno Satoshi appeared at his normal time, apparently unconcerned, and made no mention of the tabloid at all. The younger members could only assume that their leader was not aware of the fictional scandal and they chose not to enlighten him. It was only later, after filming was finished and the group returned to the greenroom, that Ohno proved them wrong. 

“Oh, that’s right…” The older man exclaimed abruptly while he shrugged on his jacket. “Sho-kun, where did you go to have dinner with your mother?” 

“Huh?” Sakurai paused in the act of tying his laces to stare at the older man. “What are you talking about?” 

“Which restaurant did you go to with your mother?” Ohno rephrased his question. 

Sho blinked in confusion. “How do you know I had dinner with my mother?” 

“I saw the tabloid.” He replied simply. 

“Leader….” The caster responded carefully. “The article didn’t mention my mother.” 

“I know, but she was with you, right? I saw the pictures.” 

“W-wait, what…? Satoshi-kun, how could you tell? They blurred my mothers’ image.” For one fleeting moment, Sakurai wondered if Ohno Satoshi thought his mother was a young twenty-something woman with chemically lightened hair. 

“I noticed that.” The older man replied as if the photographic tampering meant nothing to him or his artistic eye. “…I wonder why?” 

The rest of the group were laughing so hard as they left that Ohno never did get an answer to his question.


	6. Discourse

The karaoke parlour was a frequent hangout for the members of Arashi. Whether as a group or with individual acquaintances, it was not unusual for them to spend a night drinking and partying in a private booth. It was unusual, however, for three of the five members of the Idol group to have gathered there before noon. It was even stranger for the invitation to have come from Ohno Satoshi and for two of the members to have been deliberately excluded. 

Spread out on the vinyl upholstered seating of the booth, none of the men seemed interested in perusing the song list. They had been discussing a topic that had nothing to do with current chart hits or who would attempt Sakurai’s rap in his absence. 

“It hasn’t even been a week.” Ninomiya sighed, directing his comment at the oldest man. “You can’t expect them to be completely normal with each other yet.” 

“I don’t. I just don’t think it’s right.” Ohno pouted. “It doesn’t feel like Arashi anymore.” 

Matsumoto agreed with his leaders’ assessment but spoke out in defence of the former couple. “It’s true that they’re awkward around each other in private.” He conceded. “But, somehow, they can still work together just fine.” 

The sharp witted gamer drummed blunt fingers against his chin thoughtfully. “It’s an act.” He concluded with confidence. “Completely. They’re just acting like they think they’re supposed to.” 

“Yeah, I get that.” Jun nodded. “As soon as they have an audience, they take on the role of their characters.” 

“It’s sad.” Ohno told the younger men. “It’s not real; it’s not Arashi.” 

Both of his young friends accepted Ohno’s statement as the truth, but neither of them liked it any more than he. Frustrated with the situation, Jun clicked his tongue impatiently. “But what can we do?” He asked realistically. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with work, it’s got nothing to do with us.” 

“Yes it does.” Satoshi insisted. His words were spoken softly, but the resolve in his voice lent them strength. He repeated the phrase that had become something of a mantra for the group of friends: “Arashi is five people.” Gravely, he amended the saying: “And, right now, two of our people are falling apart.” 

“Uh, besides…” Ninomiya broke in quickly. Effectively pulling attention away from Ohno’s last remark so that they would not dwell on it, he addressed Jun. “Those two are good actors. But they’re not that good. How long before the fans notice that something is different between them? Rumours about them fighting will be all over the internet inside a month!” 

Ohno’s head shot up to regard the younger man in surprise. Eyes wide, the diffident Idol had obviously not yet considered this. “But they’re not angry at each other; they’re upset.” He objected indignantly. Naively, the possibility of misinformation being circulated by the fans distressed him. 

“They must have argued at some point, Oh-chan.” The gamer pointed out logically. “Why else would they break up in the first place?” 

Matsumoto interjected: “Actually, Aiba-chan said they never fought. Never.” 

“Not ever!?” The two elder men chorused at the same moment. 

At Jun’s nod of confirmation, the magician cursed softly and muttered curiously to himself. “If they had it so good, why did Sho end it? Especially if it’s just making him miserable…. I didn’t think he was that much of an M.” 

“Aiba-chan is miserable too.” Satoshi pointed out, ignoring his friends’ snide remark. 

Nino shrugged. “So he’s an S and M. It still doesn’t make sense.” 

The youngest man was thoughtful. “I think that’s what is upsetting Aiba-chan most.” He informed them. “I don’t think Sho-kun gave him a proper explanation Aiba-chan doesn’t know what’s going on any more than we do.” 

“Probably less.” The gamer amended. “No wonder he’s depressed.” 

The laid-back leader looked to his friend for further information. Of the three men there, Kazunari was the one with the greater insight into Masaki’s mind. The sardonic man did not always fully understand how Aiba’s mind worked, but he was closer to figuring it out than anyone else. “What do you mean?” Ohno enquired. 

“Because Aiba-chan hates being confused.” Ninomiya explained expressively. “He can’t stand not knowing something he’s interested in.” 

“Um… Nino?” Matsumoto began sceptically. “This is Aiba-chan we’re talking about, you know. He isn’t exactly the brightest rhinestone on the agency shirt.” 

“Well, yeah; ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?” The man replied evenly. “If he isn’t curious about it, it doesn’t bother him. But if he really wants to know something – no matter how weird – well…. Liquid Nitrogen, remember?” 

“And boats.” Satoshi added. “Lots and lots of boats.” 

The musician rolled his eyes at the unnecessary reminder. “Whatever. Anyway, that’s how far he is willing to go to answer stupid questions he knows aren’t important….” 

Matsumoto saw his friends’ point almost instantly. “But this time it isn’t stupid and it matters to him a lot.” The taller man offered, voicing his comprehension aloud. 

“Exactly! Except that Aiba-chan doesn’t know how to even begin looking for the answer this time.” 

Ohno shared a worried frown with his friends. “What if there isn’t one?” He asked concerned. 

For a while, the trio remained silent, each contemplating the effect this could have on their normally cheerful friend. It was difficult to imagine Aiba’s current melancholy lasting forever. Yet, they all knew his low mood was unlikely to lift any time soon; not without answers. 

Jun was the person to finally disturb the uncomfortable stillness of the room. Smacking his hand loudly on his thigh, he refused to believe his friends were beyond hope. “No! Sho-san must have had a reason. He wouldn’t do something like this without a reason.” 

Ninomiya was inclined to agree. “Yeah, but what?” He asked. “And why not just tell Masaki up-front?” 

“Maybe he can’t.” The younger man suggested. “Maybe, somehow, there is something he found out about Aiba-chan, while they were dating, that means they’re not compatible.” 

“Ah, I see.” Ninomiya said, immediately picking up on Jun’s train of thought. “So he can’t be honest about it because he still wants to be friends?” 

Jun nodded animatedly, warming to his theory. “Right. Otherwise Aiba-chan would think it was all his own fault and blame himself. Sho-kun doesn’t want Aiba-chan to feel that way, so he kept his reasons to himself.” 

“I guess that makes sense…” The magician conceded. “Sho-kun is kind, so he doesn’t want Masaki to think he brought it on himself; Sakurai would rather take the all the blame.” Ninomiya paused, collecting his thoughts. “But then, why is he still so miserable himself?” 

“Because Aiba is. He’d doing all this to stay friends with him, but Aiba-chan is upset and can barely look at him in private.” 

Ninomiya considered this. “You think he feels guilty?” 

“Of course!” Matsumoto enthused. “He knows he caused all this, and it won’t get any better until Aiba-chan gets over it.” 

“If Aiba-chan gets over it.” The gamer pointed out darkly. 

“He will.” Jun assured him confidently. “As soon as he realises that Sho-san doesn’t hate him, they will go back to being friends.” 

“And how long will that take?” Ninomiya groaned. “Arashi could be in serious trouble by the time Aiba-chan figures that out.” 

After simply watching the exchange between the younger men, Ohno finally contributed then. “He doesn’t hate Aiba-chan.” Their unassuming leader agreed. “He still cares about him.” 

Matsumoto Jun sighed heavily. “This is getting us nowhere.” He noted. “We’ve been talking in circles for over an hour and we still don’t know what to do.” 

“Urg…” Frustrated, the young gamer ran his hands roughly through his hair before quickly turning on the older man. “You!” He snapped menacingly and pointing an accusing finger at the timid man. “You’re the one who called us here; don’t you have any ideas!?” 

“Ah… um, I… I just thought, you know…. We should talk.” He replied defensively. More firmly he added: “And we have to help.” 

“You say that Leader, but…” Jun shrugged to demonstrate their collective helplessness. 

“How?” Ninomiya finished the sentence aloud, in case Ohno had not understood the visual clue. “How are we supposed to help?” 

“By talking.” The older man explained. “Talking to each other and by talking to them.” He shifted uncomfortably, entwining his fingers in his lap and staring at his hands intently. “Maybe it’s no good…” He mumbled. “But we have to get them to talk to each other too.” 

The youngest member approved of this assessment, but raised one obvious objection. “We can’t force them to talk to each other, though. And, if Aiba-chan is convinced that Sho-san doesn’t like him anymore, he won’t want to speak to him. Aiba-chan is probably afraid of making him angry.” 

“Well then,” Ninomiya straightened up resolutely and smirked. “One of us needs to convince Masaki otherwise.” 

Ohno smiled. “By talking to him.” He reiterated proudly. 

“Yeah, yeah.” The younger man casually waved off his leaders’ apt guidance. He usually delighted in pointing out – in tones of great disbelief – whenever the older man did something unintentionally leader-like. It was not as much fun, however, when the small man actively took charge. Also, it would not be good if Ohno suddenly developed an ego over his leadership skills. “I’ll drop by Aiba’s apartment this evening.” He continued lightly. “I know he had plans for today, so he’s probably not home yet.” 

“In that case…” Jun grinned. Stimulated by the emergence of a definite plan of action, he felt the weight lift from his shoulders. Picking up his soft-drink with one hand and a microphone with the other, he beamed at his friends. “We may as well have some fun and hang out in the meantime.” 

The other men agreed – albeit with much less enthusiasm. 

* * * 

Sakurai Sho had never been fond of dining in a restaurant alone; he felt that they were places that were meant to be enjoyed socially. This is why, when the aroma emanating from the high-class establishment caught his attention, Sakurai nearly walked right on by. However, his lack of appetite over the last week finally caught up with him and the caster was surprised to find himself ravenously hungry. 

Usually, Sakurai would have simply gone home and eaten there. But increasingly, he had been avoiding situations that left him alone with his mother. If only because her occasional mentions of the date she had arranged and her enquiries about Arashi in the same sentence were difficult for him. It was inadvertent on her part, Sho knew, but it made spending time with his family an ordeal. When he was home, he had kept mostly to his room and dove into his work like never before. 

So – just this once – Sakurai allowed the scent to tempt him inside. Walking through the doors he carefully ignored any other diners that might have noticed him and proceeded directly to the counter. It was not the sort of place where one could eat at the counter, but he could and did place his order with the waitress without waiting to be seated. He was hungry enough to want to eat quickly and uncomfortable enough to wish they offered take-out. 

Just as he had placed his order, he sensed someone hovering at his side. Assuming that he had been recognised by a fan, Sho schooled his features into patience and turned. Meeting the eyes of the kindly host of Tensai! Shimura Doubutsuen, however, had been the furthest thing from his mind. 

“Sakurai-kun! What a coincidence.” The spry elderly man greeted him fondly with a wide smile. 

“Ah, yes… It- it’s been a while.” The young Idol stuttered quickly, his mind struggling to cope with his surprise. 

Obviously enjoying the young Idols’ discomfiture, Shimura Ken gave a throaty bark of laughter and clapped the younger man on the back. “Yes it has!” He agreed. “What are you doing here?” He enquired politely. 

“Um, I’m just…uh, having a quick lunch.” The caster admitted sheepishly. 

The elderly man regarded him cheerfully. “Alone?” 

“Alone.” Sho confirmed. The easy, open charm of the older man made it difficult to be evasive, and Sakurai did not bother to try. 

“No, no, that won’t do.” Shimura Ken argued kindly. Catching the eye of the waitress behind the bar, he asked Sho a question as she made her way over to them: “Sakurai-kun, have you already ordered?” 

“Uh, yes sir, I have.” The young man answered carefully, he did not want to offend someone who was not only so obviously senior to him, but was also Aiba’s boss. 

“Good, good!” The man nodded. He turned to address the waitress. “Could we have a dishcloth for my table, please? Some water was spilled.” He explained. “Oh, and whatever this young man ordered? Put it on my tab and serve it at my table, if you would be so kind; he’ll be joining us.” 

“Eh!?” 

The bespectacled old man smiled innocently. “You will join us, won’t you, Sakurai-kun?” He cajoled the youngster. “There really is no reason for you to be eating alone, after all.” 

“B-but….” Sakurai protested weakly as the older man began to lead him inexorably away from the counter and into the dinning space. 

“Now, now…” The affable celebrity admonished him gently. “It’s no problem at all. I’ve just won a thrilling game of golf, so I’m in a celebratory mood, anyway. The more the merrier, after all. And two people isn’t nearly enough for a decent celebration.” 

The young man balked. “Two people?” 

“Yeah, but when it’s your opponent, it just feels like your gloating and takes all the fun out of it.” He explained with a mischievous smirk as they neared a distant corner of the restaurant. “So I’m actually glad I bumped into you-” 

Arriving at their destination, Sakurai froze. He had suspected it; but it was still a shock to meet the eyes of Shimura’s companion. Time seemed to stand still, his heart stopped and his breath hitched in his throat. And yet, the elderly man, leading him to sit, continued obliviously. 

“Aiba-kun, look who I found!” He proclaimed proudly. “I guess we can call this your prize for second place, huh? Someone else to talk to beside me!” 

The tall young Idol smiled misleadingly at his boss and former lover. “Sho-chan, please, do sit down.” 

Feeling as though a lead ball had just replaced his stomach, Sakurai lowered himself into the chair next to the older man and opposite his colleague. Unsurprisingly, he found his newly returned appetite seemed to have deserted him just as swiftly as it had appeared.


	7. Reminiscent

It had been difficult at first, Aiba reflected, to sit down and enjoy a meal with the man who broke his heart. It was made harder by the presence of his kindly boss and the need to conceal his feelings. And all the worse by the fact that Sho looked so utterly good and so obviously eager to be as far away from Aiba as possible. Shimura Ken had not seen the queasy cast to Sakurai’s features as the pair sat down, but Masaki had. 

The tall man was aware that he was not looking at his best; he was covered with sweat and grime from the golf course, after all. But seeing that the sight of him was enough to make the rapper sick was a bitter feeling. Especially when he recalled the immaculately attired young woman that Sakurai was apparently dating. 

As time passed, however, with Shimura Ken leading the conversation and just enough alcohol to loosen the knots in his stomach, Aiba was able to start enjoying himself. When the elderly host asked about their younger days, the two Idols reminisced together naturally. The young man could almost feel their friendship reasserting itself as they discussed late night bicycle rides and angry claimants. 

Slowly, it was beginning to feel like things were normal between them. 

Masaki listened happily as Sakurai related an episode that had occurred backstage at one of their previous concerts. “…Nino thought it would be funny to ‘contribute’ to Ohno-kun’s artwork. So, he drew an S and an N on the picture, with a heart in between.” 

The unpretentious celebrity laughed heartily. “How did Ohno-kun react?” He asked. 

“He didn’t.” Aiba supplied, picking up the narrative. “When Leader came back and saw it, he just sat down and kept drawing. He made it part of the design.” 

Sho, both elbows on the table, leaned towards the younger man as he spoke. “He did end up offering the picture to ‘Kazu-chan’ when he was done, though, remember?” 

“Oh yeah…” Aiba giggled. “Nino-chan said he didn’t want it.” 

“Actually,” Sakurai corrected him, his cheeks dimpled in mirth. “He told him not to be so creepy!” 

All three men guffawed over this before the bespectacled host excused himself to use the facilities. Finding they were alone, Aiba worried that their newly rekindled camaraderie would quickly extinguish. The tall Idol, however, was determined not to let that happen. 

He still desperately wanted to be with the gentle rapper, but he knew he had to put that aside now. If Sakurai did not love him, at least he did not seem to hate him either. Aiba’s love for the caster had grown from their friendship; if he could not have the former returned in kind, then he would treasure the latter all the more. 

“I wonder what happened with that drawing?” He murmured, carefully staying on topic to avoid being awkward. 

It seemed to work; Sho was at ease as he replied. “Oh, that’s right! You left before it ended.” 

“How did it end?” 

Wearing a boyish grin that creased the corners of his eyes attractively, Sakurai explained. “He changed to N to an M and gave it to Matsujun instead.” 

“Uwah…” Masaki chortled. “I bet Nino-chan wasn’t very happy about that.” 

“Well, I can’t say for sure…” The intelligent young man confessed with a smile. “But I don’t think I’ve seen Nino tamper with any of Leaders work since.” 

“Ah- You’re right!” He exclaimed happily. “You know…” He continued on a conspiratorial note. “Sometimes, I wonder about those two….” 

He had meant the remark to be in jest, but Sho seemed to misunderstand. In an instant his smile slipped and his whole demeanour became grave. “Aiba-chan…” 

Alarmed, the lithe man interrupted before the rapper could say more. “No! Wait Sho-chan.” He pleaded evenly. “Before you say anything, let me speak first, OK?” 

Sakurai hesitated. “But-” 

“Please, Sho-chan!?” He begged. He pressed the palms of his hands together and held them before him beseechingly. When Sakurai relented and agreed to listen, Aiba breathed a sigh of relief. He took a moment to collect his thoughts and then began in a quiet voice. “Today… today – I didn’t think it was possible, but – I had fun. I am having fun. I think… I think I had forgotten what it was like; being like this. Sho-chan….” Leaning towards the older man, Aiba’s next words were an entreating whisper. “Can’t we just go back?” 

“Eh!?” Sho’s eyes snapped wide and he recoiled. He opened his mouth to respond, but Masaki hurried on. 

“I just want to go back to the way things were.” He insisted bitterly. “I like being your friend, Sho-chan. I like hanging out with you and doing stupid stuff that nobody else cares about. Can’t we go back to before any of this started? Before you… well, can’t we forget about all that and just be regular friends again? Before everything got complicated and weird and…wrong? I just want us to be normal.” He stressed. “That’s all I want.” 

“…That’s all?” Sakurai asked slowly. 

“That’s all.” Aiba assured him. And while he knew it was not all he wanted, he also knew it was all he could hope to get. 

It was at that moment that their elderly host returned to the table. “What’s all?” He asked cheerfully, having overheard Masaki’s final statement. 

“Uh, nothing!” The youngest man lied, hastily picking up his water glass and taking a long pull to avoid more uncomfortable questions. He was concerned that Sakurai had not been able to respond to his request and feared that the caster never would. 

He was surprised, however, when Sakurai turned to address the older man. “It was nothing really.” He replied smoothly. “Except that…. Well, have you ever noticed how impossible it is to actually say no to Aiba-chan?” 

His warm-hearted boss laughingly agreed; his curiosity satisfied. Yet Aiba found himself hiding a grimace behind his glass. He thought that if that were true, he would not have had to settle for just Sakurai’s friendship in the first place. If Sho really could not deny Masaki anything, why had he refused the one thing Aiba wanted most in the world: Sakurai himself? 

Still, Aiba was tired of feeling sorry for himself. He had decided to focus on making sure their friendship really did survive. It would not really be that different from when they were dating, he told himself. Except the level of intimacy they shared. Oh, but he missed that. 

Quickly the trio settled back into their easy manner and were soon laughing again. Shimura regaled his younger audience with stories about the notable people he had encountered in his career. He talked about his admiration for nature and jokingly complimented Sakurai’s golf prowess as seen on VS Arashi. 

Finally, as lunch became late afternoon, the party wound down. While the generous host left to settle the bill, Sakurai Sho made a much needed trip to the bathroom. Having relieved himself of his most pressing need, he lingered at the sink. Splashing cool water against his alcohol flushed cheeks; he regarded himself in the mirror above the basin. 

He had to admit that he had enjoyed Aiba’s company. Not because it had felt like old times, but because it had felt like they were still together. Sakurai cared deeply about the winsome young man and it had been good to share in his breathy laughter again. As with when they were dating, Sho had delighted in his smiles and infectious enthusiasm. It had felt no different from two weeks previous, when they had joined a group of mutual friends for dinner. 

Taking a deep breath, Sakurai steeled himself and emerged from the toilet. He spotted Masaki stood just outside the entrance with his back to the glass. Shimura Ken was nowhere in sight and Sho hurried to join the younger man. As he approached he looked around for the missing member of their party. “Hey, where-?” 

“Gone.” Aiba answered before the caster could even finish his question. “He got a call and had to leave.” 

“Oh, I see. You didn’t have to wait.” Sakurai told the man, feeling guilty. 

Masaki sniffed indignantly. “I’m not Leader, Sho-chan; even if the bill is paid in full. Besides…” He added with a mischievous grin, patting the bulky gold bag at his side. “Enchou had to leave in a hurry and he collected me this morning. I need a ride.”

Sakurai sighed. “I only came out for a walk, Aiba-chan.” He explained. 

“Yeah, so?” The man shrugged. “You didn’t walk all the way from your house, did you? Where did you park?” 

The rapper shook his head. Sometimes, he thought, Masaki knew him entirely too well. “The car is three blocks away.” He confessed ruefully. 

“Thr-? Wow~!” Aiba exaggerated his reaction. “You really didn’t walk far, did you?” He teased. 

“Oi!” 

“Well you didn’t!” The taller man pointed out with a grin. “It’s only three blocks, right?” 

Sho returned his smile sheepishly. “I got hungry.” He defended himself. 

“Whatever. Just give me your car keys.” 

“What? Why should I?” 

“Because…” Aiba responded with mock disdain. “You drank way too much and I don’t want us both to get killed.” 

“You drank too.” The older man argued even as he dug his keys from his pocket and handed them other. 

“I nursed the same beer for four hours and drank water in between.” 

“Isn’t that a little extreme?” Sho enquired, referring to Masaki’s level of caution. 

“After what happened the first time I went drinking with Shimura-san? No. Now, kindly stop wasting time and let’s go. We’ve got a whole three blocks to walk, after all, and no golf caddy in sight….” 

Getting the hint as Aiba began marching purposefully away; Sakurai hefted the bag over his shoulder and followed after him.

For the news caster, it felt entirely too natural when the car pulled up at Aiba’s building. He had done this some thing many times as Masaki’s friend and countless more as his lover. Yet despite his promise to revert back to being just friends, Sho could not help but recall the last time Aiba had driven him to his home. 

It was hard to believe that it had been just over a week ago. There were times when it felt like an eternity had passed. And there were times –like now– when it hardly felt like they had broken up at all, and the past week had just been one long nightmare. 

With Sakurai still toting Aiba’s sports gear, the taller man preceded him and opened the front door. Dumping the heavy bag just inside the entrance alongside Masaki’s shoes, Sho found himself watching the younger man. Padding barefoot into his apartment he casually tossed two sets of keys onto the counter and headed for the kitchen. 

“Do you want some water?” The young man called out to him. 

“Uh, no thanks.” Shaking himself out of his trance, the rapper did not move from the entranceway. “I’ll just call myself a taxi and head home.” 

“Don’t be stupid.” Aiba chided him from the kitchen and thankfully, out of sight. “If you just let me grab a quick shower and change, I’ll drive you home myself. You did carry my golf clubs for–” Coming back from the other room as he spoke, Aiba paused when he saw the older man loitering just inside his door. 

The moment he had crossed the threshold into Aiba’s home, Sakurai knew he should not have come inside. The sight of the young man – relaxed and at ease in his own home – conjured memories that were as painful as they were potent. This had always been the one place where the physical aspects of their relationship could be expressed. To the outside world they had always been friends. From the day they began dating, it was only here that they had ever truly been lovers. 

“Sho-chan, don’t just stand there.” The grateful young man approached him as if he intended to physically pull him from the spot to which he had rooted himself. 

“No.” Sakurai shook his head as if to ward the other man off. “I really think I should call a taxi.” For a second, he glimpsed the look of consternation flash behind Masaki’s eyes as he balked, but Sho knew it was unavoidable. The rapper had spent the afternoon in the company of the younger man like nothing had changed about their relationship. Now, alone with the statuesque Idol, it was all too easy to imagine they were still together. The very idea of reaching out and reclaiming Aiba as his own was almost more temptation than he could bear. 

He could still recall every nuance he had discovered of Aiba’s body. He could trace the outline of the mans prominent birthmark with his eyes closed. He remembered how good it felt to slide his hands through silky-soft hair while the man sighed against his mouth; content and pliant and willing. He knew every ridge and sinew, every mark and blemish that only added to the lithe mans perfection. Sakurai’s whole being burned with the memory of Aiba’s touch and the desire for more. 

Oblivious to the chaos it caused with Sho’s self-control, Aiba sauntered over to stand mere inches from him. “Well, if you’re in that much of a hurry…” He sighed with a tolerant smile. “I can forget the shower and take you now.” He suggested. 

He was too close. Sakurai screwed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose trying to fight the sudden fire in his veins. Muscles tense and his breath rasping unsteadily through gritted teeth, the caster struggled to hold still. Aiba’s proximity meant that Sho could smell the faint musk of his skin; could feel the heat of his body emanating between them. “…Masaki…” His voce was a strangled whisper. Finally, he dared to open his eyes and look up at the taller man. 

Sakurai could not help himself; he drank in the sight of the younger man. Aiba’s lightened, beautifully styled hair was mussed fetchingly from the long day. His pale, flawless face shone under the light from the windows. His dark eyes gazed back intently; orbs of lacquered mahogany that pierced straight to the rapper chest. Masaki’s wide, perfectly formed mouth was pulled into a slight expectant pout as he waited curiously for Sakurai to finish his sentence. 

“What’s the matter?” He asked gently when the older man had remained silent and staring. “Relax, Sho-chan.” Aiba smiled benignly. “I’ll just throw on a different t-shirt and we can go.” In one casual, fluid motion, the lithe man fisted the hem of his t-shirt in his hands and pulled the fabric up over his head. 

It was too much for the overwrought caster. It was all too much. At the very moment Aiba had lifted his shirt to reveal his torso, Sakurai’s control snapped. With his arms above his head and trapped at the elbow in a tangle of fabric, Masaki had no defence against the older man. Sho seized upon the unsuspecting man pinned him to the wall. He pressed close, using his weight to keep the taller man in place as he reached up to claim Aiba’s mouth with his own. 

He held the arms of the helpless man above him and swallowed Masaki’s shocked sounds of protest. As his mouth moved roughly over Aiba’s, hot and crushing and reckless, the rapper took want he wanted. It was not a kiss; there was no soft give-and-take, no loving reciprocation. Like a thief he simply seized all that he dared. He plundered the wet heat of Aiba’s mouth; he stole the very breath from his lungs. He feasted at his lips like a man dying of starvation and revelled in the familiar taste. 

With the pressure of his arms he forced Aiba lower, to bend slightly at the knee. Urgently, Sakurai pushed one leg between them and slotted their hips together. Grinding against the younger man he growled low, appreciatively. When Sho released Masaki’s arms to slide his hands over the expanse of bare skin before him, Aiba made no move to lower them or push him away. With the t-shirt binding his limbs and the sculpted man pressing his back to the wall, struggling would have been futile anyway. 

Sakurai moved to caress the side of Aiba’s neck; he caused the other man to tip his head back using the pressure of his fingers. With swollen, hungry lips, Sho trailed a path along the taut sinew of that exposed throat. He nipped and suckled at the delicate skin before moving in to nuzzle desperately at the dip created by the mans raised shoulder. 

Distantly the caster could hear the pleading whimpers of the younger man, but he ignored everything but his own desire. He was completely consumed by the need for the tall man, and lost to reason. Caught up in a tide of lust and desperate to keep himself from drowning, he clung to Aiba like a man seeking salvation. It was not until he felt something warm and wet fall against his skin from above, that Sho could pull himself away. 

Seeing the innocent man, immobile and gazing at him with tears in his eyes, brought the older man back to his senses with a crash. Realising what he had done – what he had been about to do – Sakurai recoiled in shame. He had never been so disgusted with himself. Filled with self-loathing, he turned away from the trembling man quickly. He could not bear to look at the younger man. 

He had to get out. He had to escape; he could no longer trust himself to be with the other man. As he blindly reached for the door, he tried to apologise for his actions. “I’m sorry…” He choked out. The anger he felt for himself added a hard edge to his voice. “I-I… I won’t love you!” With that, he fled, leaving Masaki to sink slowly, silently to the floor.


	8. Divulgence

Ohno Satoshi considered his dilemma seriously. He had faced the same decision countless time before, yet it never got any easier. He stood before the ticket kiosk of the train station and mentally debated his choice. Should he take the train that would see him home in time for dinner? Or should he take the train that would take him to the harbour while there were still a couple of hours of daylight left? He never knew which to choose. 

The furtive talk he had called with the two youngest members had become an impromptu karaoke party and quite lively. But when it had wound down a short time ago, Ohno had declined Matsumoto’s offer to drive him home. He knew he would face this familiar impasse at the station, but he enjoyed taking his time to choose. Accepting a ride from the younger man would have left him with no other option but to go home. 

As he stood, taking his time to make up his mind, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Absently, Satoshi took the device from his jacket to check the screen. Under normal circumstances the unassuming Idol rarely responded to such calls. Answering the call now, however, he acknowledged that things had been far from normal lately. 

“Hello? Sho-kun?” He had always been uncomfortable speaking over the telephone and it showed here in his somewhat stilted greeting. 

“Ah, you picked up…!?” 

The surprise in his tone was understandable, Ohno knew. But the mixture of relief and fear he heard behind his friends’ words alerted him to the fact that something was not quite right with the man. “I did.” He replied evenly before adding more seriously: “What’s wrong?” 

“Everything!” Sakurai growled angrily down the line. “I… I ruined everything. I’m sorry…” 

Satoshi could hear his friend fighting to hold back tears. He did not know what caused them, be he knew it went beyond Sakurai feeling guilty for making things awkward within the group. Sho had always been the level-headed one; the one who kept the group together when tensions were strained. He was their shadow leader and the person Ohno had always relied upon to take care of them. 

Now the gentle young man was crumbling and reaching out to him. Satoshi could not stand idly by and let someone else take up the responsibility. Sho deserved so much more for his kindness over the years and Ohno owed it to him to oblige. “Tell me what happened.” He suggested carefully down the line. 

“I-I can’t.... Not– I don’t know, Leader! I don’t know what I was thinking… I- I did something horrible.” 

Ohno quickly realised that the desperately upset caster needed more reassurance than he could offer over the phone. “Are you at home?” He asked when Sakurai came to a faltering stop. 

“Not yet.” He replied miserably after a long pause. “I’m not sure…” 

The older man interrupted then, hating the pitiful agony he could hear from his friend. “Go home Sho-kun.” He commanded more firmly than he ever had before. If Sakurai was as lost and confused as he sounded, then it fell to Ohno to grant him some direction. 

“But–” 

“I’ll meet you there.” Satoshi continued, resolutely forestalling any objections. Fearing that the other man might yet argue, Ohno quickly ended the call. 

Pocketing the device, he turned his attention back to the ticket kiosk. There was no hesitation in him as he made his selection; there was no longer any choice to make. Although it was not always apparent, Satoshi knew when he had to put his friends first. 

He reached Sakurai’s home before the younger man. After greeting Sho’s family and exchanging pleasantries, Ohno politely elected to wait in the casters bedroom. A short time later he heard Sakurai return. The rapper joined Satoshi without delay, stumbling into the room and slamming the door shut behind him. 

As Sho met his eyes briefly and slumped dejectedly against the door, the older man said nothing. Putting one arm firmly around the rapper Ohno steered them both to sit side by side on the edge of the bed. He had never seen Sakurai – usually so stalwart and dependable – look so scared. He seemed so small; so lost. He did not ask any questions, but kept his arm around the man as they sat. 

Sho immediately leaned into the embrace and rested his head on Ohno’s shoulder. It was a long time, however, before he spoke. When he did, his voice was thick with emotion but oddly monotone. “I met Aiba-chan today.” He spoke as if in a trance. “I bumped into him at lunch time. We ate together and we talked.” 

“That’s good, isn’t it?” The smaller man queried softly when Sakurai did not continue. 

“He said we should just be friends again…. That he didn’t want anything else from me.” 

In a rare moment of clarity, Ohno suddenly understood. “I see. And that upset you…” He murmured insightfully. “…because you still love him.” 

His words seemed to hit home and Sakurai finally released the hold he had on his emotions. “I never stopped.” He confessed tearfully, his voice breaking over the words. “I love him so much, but I… Oh, God, I’m the worst! I did something terrible!” At this admission he burrowed his head further into the crook of Satoshi’s neck in shame. 

Ohno patted the younger mans back soothingly, if somewhat awkwardly. He was rarely in a position to comfort others and was unsure how to proceed. “Sho-kun…?” He began in a curious whisper. “Why did you break up with Aiba-chan?” 

“Because…I- I had to…” Sakurai mumbled piteously into Satoshi’s nape. 

Patiently Ohno drew away to look the broken man in the eye. “Tell me about it.” He entreated. 

Taking a deep breath the caster related his story. Reluctantly at first, but then with more assurance he told his leader everything. He described the conversation he had had with his parents. He explained his unwillingness to disappoint his mother and his desire to free Aiba for a normal future. He finished by stating that he had never intended to hurt the younger man. 

Ohno, having listened closely, asked why Sho had not simply told Aiba the truth. 

“I couldn’t.” The caster explained morosely. “I love him so much, Oh-chan, that the thought of not being with him…. It’s killing me. I didn’t want to put Masaki through that. I thought… I thought, if I just ended it, Aiba-chan might be upset for a while, but he would get over it. He would move on and be happy. It’s just that….” 

“What?” 

“Except, when I broke up with him, he didn’t seem to care. It’s stupid, I know that, but when I realised that… it hurt. Knowing that Aiba had never felt as deeply for me as I do for him….” Sakurai trailed off, scrubbing his hands through his hair with a groan. 

“I should have been happy that Masaki was OK!” He continued more forcefully. “I should have, but I wasn’t. And then, when I saw him today and he said he wanted to go back to the way things were, I thought…. Just for a moment, I thought he wanted to get back together. And if… if he had meant that, I don’t think I would have been able to say no. But he didn’t mean that at all; he doesn’t want that from me anymore.” Sinking in on himself, he added one final thought to his spiel. “…Maybe he never did.” 

Ohno sympathised with his distraught friend but could not agree with his last statement. “That’s not true.” He insisted. “Aiba-chan was really upset, you know. Matsujun said it took a long time to calm him down the day you guys broke up.” 

“Huh?” Sakurai regarded the older man in surprise. “Really?” He voice was a hoarse, disbelieving murmur. 

“Uh-huh. Really. Aiba-chan cried. He’s been really sad too.” 

The rapper shook his head wonderingly. “I never saw–” 

“Maybe he didn’t want you to.” Satoshi reasoned. 

“But today-” Sho objected. “Today he said he doesn’t want me to love him and I told him that I won’t. He just wanted to be friends again….” 

“But that’s exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?” The older man stated. “For Aiba-chan to get over you and be happy?” 

“Oh God…” Sakurai moaned, hiding his guilt-ridden face behind his hands. “You don’t know!” He wailed. 

“What?” 

“Oh Leader… I- I’ve ruined everything. Masaki will never forgive me. He probably never wants to see me again.” 

The repugnance he heard in Sakurai’s voice frightened the older man. Ohno had never seen him like this and he worried about the mental state of his friend. “Why? What happened?” He asked cautiously. 

The bigger man began to shed tears of self-recrimination as he explained. “I don’t know what I was thinking…. Or maybe I wasn’t thinking at all. But when we went back to his place…. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” 

“Why, Sho-kun?” Satoshi pressed, needing to understand. “What did you do?” 

“I attacked him!” The rapper confessed in a keening sob. “I held him against the wall and I- I…. Argh! I forced myself on him, Ohno-kun!” Flinging himself angrily to his feet he stormed across the room; he need to put so distance between them. 

“Sho-kun…” Ohno was both horrified and concerned for the younger man. But it was not Sakurai’s admission which caused this reaction; it was the self-loathing he could see in the man. Satoshi had never been the type to pass judgement on others and he did not like to see Sakurai judging himself so harshly either. “Sho-kun, it’s alright.” He tried to reassure his friend. 

“How could it be!?” Sho raged desperately, turning toward the bed to face the other man. “Shit! I nearly– He was crying! I was kissing him and he was crying!” Dashing away his own tears with the back of his hand, the caster struggled to control himself after his outburst. Closing his eyes against the ache in his chest, his next words were spoken softly, but filled with dread. “How do you forgive something like that…?” 

He did not notice Ohno’s approach until the older man was enfolding him in a hug. His anger spent and emotionally exhausted, Sakurai sank slowly to the floor, cradled in Ohno’s arms. Holding the man tight and rocking with him gently, Satoshi waited for his friend to calm down before speaking. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” The diffident Idol told him. “I’m sure Aiba-chan will forgive you. Definitely. If you just explain everything to him then–” 

“No!” The rapper pulled away suddenly. “I don’t want that. I’d rather he hated me.” He insisted. 

“But…” 

“Because I can’t do anything else…” Sho went on more evenly. “I’ve already hurt him so much. Telling him the truth now… I can’t do it, Oh-chan. I can’t be with him and I can’t add to that pain.” 

“But what about you?” 

“I’m fine.” He lied. “Or, I will be. I’ll apologise to Aiba-chan properly and maybe that will be enough. And even if it isn’t…. Well, we’re both professionals; we won’t let Arashi down.” 

“Aiba-chan deserves a proper explanation.” Ohno persisted. 

Sho nodded. “I’ll think of something.” 

“He deserves the truth.” 

The caster sighed. “I can’t… not that.” The younger man pleaded. “You can’t tell him, Leader. Please… You can’t tell anyone. Promise me. Promise that you won’t say anything about this to anyone?” 

The older man hesitated uncertainly. 

“Please, Satoshi-kun!? I’m begging you!” 

Slowly, reluctantly, Ohno agreed. He wanted to help both his friends to be happy but could not see any way for that to happen. Until the two men could be honest with each other, Ohno feared they would both continue to suffer. Yet the older man could not force the issue; it was not his place to do so. All he could do was watch and worry and be there to support his friends when it all became too much. 

Satoshi now knew that Sakurai had tried to do the right thing by both his parents and Aiba. He had gone on a date to appease his mother. He had ended his liaison with his colleague to allow the younger man the chance of a normal future. Ohno could see how Sho had applied his mothers talk – not to himself, but to Aiba instead. 

The diminutive Idol could not agree with the conclusion Sakurai had drawn, but he did understand it. Though he voiced none of these thoughts. He realised that Sho needed to work it out alone. 

For a long time after the older man made his promise, neither man spoke. In thoughtful silence they simply kept each other company. Still sat together on the floor, it was a while before another thought occurred to the shorter man. “Ah, Sho-kun?” 

“Hm?” 

“Aiba-chan…” Satoshi chose his words carefully. “Was he OK?” 

“I- I don’t know…” He admitted regretfully. “I didn’t even look back to check. I just… left.” 

Mutely, Ohno nodded. Once more, the pair fell silent, both occupied by separate but related worries. 

 

In the hallway, hidden by shadows, a lone figure crept away from the closed door of Sakurai’s room. Having heard everything, the unknown listener wore a grim frown, barely visible in the light spilling from downstairs. Carefully considering everything that had been overheard, the stranger disappeared into the darkness. 

* * * 

Dimly, he became aware that it was going dark. How long he had been sitting there, he did not know. He had simply slid to the floor and wept into the crumpled fabric in his hands. He had sobbed until he had no more tears left to cry. And when his eyes had dried and his breathing had settled, he still had not moved. 

Dazed, he had remained motionless, staring into the middle-distance while his mind spun in dizzying circles. Nothing seemed to make sense to him anymore. He felt completely numb, but his whole body ached. He was uncomfortably hot, yet his skin pebbled with the cold. He thought he might explode with all the emotions bubbling inside him and still, he felt empty. 

Trying to sort his confusion only added to it. 

Finally he realised that it was futile to sit alone in the dark. He could answer none of his own questions and he was tired of trying. He was sick of feeling helpless and pathetic. He was fed up of being held together by others. So he decided to do something about it. 

With a muted grunt he climbed unsteadily to his feet. Letting the tear-soaked t-shirt fall to the floor, he marched towards the kitchen. He hesitated for a spilt second when he spotted two sets of keys on the counter. But his indecision was brief; quickly he donned a fresh shirt, snatched up his own keys and headed for the door. 

Any action was better than inaction, he told himself as he pulled the door firmly shut behind him.


	9. Exasperation

The first thing that Ninomiya Kazunari noticed as he approached the abode of his childhood friend was the absence of any light shinning through the windows. The second thing he saw was the car belonging to Sakurai Sho parked just outside the building. A week ago he might reasonably have assumed that that both men were in residence but were otherwise engaged. But now, a strange sense of foreboding took him as he regarded the tableau. 

Pulling up next to Sakurai’s vehicle into the space usually occupied by Aiba’s car, Ninomiya cut the engine. He hardly needed to ring Aiba’s doorbell to know that the tall man was not home, but he did it anyway. He could have turned around and headed home then. He had known that Masaki had plans for the day; it would not be strange for the tall man to have stayed out up to this point. 

Yet, somehow, the one time Hollywood star doubted it was that simple. Ninomiya had never liked being dragged into the personal drama of others. He hated it when others poked their noses into his private life too. This time, however, he told himself that he just wanted to know where his friend was. Taking out his cellular phone as he returned to his car, he dialled Aiba’s number. 

It rang off to Masaki’s answer-phone twice, but Ninomiya had not gotten where he was by giving up easily. On his third attempt, he finally got through to the other line. The voice that answered the call, however, did not belong to his lanky friend; it was female. 

“Ah! Hello? Kazu-kun, is that you?” 

Despite the nervous tone and flustered manner, Ninomiya recognised Masaki’s mother immediately. “Yes, it’s Ninomiya.” He confirmed politely. 

“Thank goodness!” She sighed down the line. “I’m so glad you called…” 

“Is something wrong?” The young man asked needlessly. He was fairly sure he could guess the answer, but thought it best to have the woman explain. 

“It’s about Masa-kun.” She began, her voice pitched low. “Do you know if something happened? He just turned up about an hour ago, and then…” 

“And then?” 

The mature woman paused to collect her thoughts. “I’ve never seen him like this.” She noted reluctantly. “He seemed so… angry. Then he just went up to his old room and won’t tell us what’s wrong.” 

“Is that so?” Ninomiya replied noncommittally, aiming to sound neutral. He could not tell Aiba’s mother anything that her son had not told her himself. 

“I’m really worried, Kazu-kun.” She confessed. “I was beginning to think something awful had happened to Arashi. Nothing has, has it?” 

“To Arashi? No.” Ninomiya reassured her smoothly. “Everything is totally fine.” 

“Then wha–” Interrupting her own question, the concerned mother seemed to have an idea. “Are you busy right now, Kazu-kun? He might talk to you.” 

As this had been his objective from the start, the young man did not argue. Assuring the woman that he was indeed free, Ninomiya agreed to check on her son. He then ended the call, started his car and drove the relatively short distance to Aiba’s family home. 

Just twenty minutes later, as Ninomiya climbed the stairs to the second floor of Aiba’s family home and restaurant, he experienced a sense of déjà vu. In a small way, he was reminded of his teenage years and all the times he had visited his friend here. This time though, the perceptive young man knew it was different. This was no social call to play video games or baseball. 

He did not knock – did not announce his entrance – he simply opened the door and barged right in. Aiba was sprawled on top of the futon with a bottle in one hand and a remote control in the other. The tall man turned away from the television at Ninomiya’s intrusion and regarded the man. He had been watching an early Arashi concert. 

“Your father said you had taken a bottle of his best liquor.” The smaller man said without preamble, nodding to indicate the offending item. “I can’t say I blame you though.” He added dryly, catching sight of the screen. “I would need something pretty strong to watch some of our older stuff too.” 

The taller man wore a blank, unreadable expression and shrugged listlessly. “I sort of figured if I was going to be confused, I might as well do it while drunk.” 

“Oh, yeah…” Ninomiya remarked sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he joined Aiba on the futon. “Because that solves everything.” 

“It’ll do.” Masaki counter evenly. “…For now.” 

“And tomorrow?” The gamer asked logically. 

“Tomorrow I’m going to be so hung-over, I won’t care.” 

The younger man snorted disparagingly. “Wow Aiba-chan, even by your standards, that’s a pretty stupid plan.” 

Shutting off the television, Masaki groaned. “I know.” He put aside the alcohol and rearranged himself to sit cross-legged in front of his uninvited guest. “But I ran out of other ideas. I give up.” 

“That’s always been your biggest problem.” The plainspoken Idol pointed out coldly. “You get so excited about everything, but as soon as it gets difficult, you give up.” 

Offended, Aiba railed against the accusation. “What am I supposed to do Kazu-kun!?” He asked sharply. “I tried. I really did! He doesn’t want me; he has someone else and there’s no way I can compete.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Really. I knew it as soon as I saw the tabloids. Sho-chan even said it himself. So I tried – I tried really hard – to be…normal, you know? Like it was before? We saw each other today and everything was fine, but then….” The lithe man trailed off uncertainly. He was unsure how to explain a sequence of events he did not fully understand himself. 

Ninomiya held his tongue as his childhood friend paused. He knew Aiba well enough to know that his apparent apathy was just a façade. He could tall by the tremor in Masaki’s voice and the haunted look in his expressive eyes. And he knew he had to get the older man to stop thinking about everything quite so deeply. Aiba was not really suited to sustained thought anyway. 

Eventually, the tall man began to speak. He recounted, not only the events of the day, but the week that preceded them also. Somehow, it gradually got easier, as he voiced his story, to see things objectively. By the time he was telling the smaller man about lunch, he was able to talk about it normally. The circumstances were no less upsetting, but by sharing his worries, Masaki felt the burden of his emotions lighten. 

Coming to the end of his narrative, the man calmly described Sakurai’s kiss. “…and then he just left.” He finished on a sigh. 

Ninomiya hummed speculatively. He had listened to Aiba for nearly half an hour and had managed to keep his most scathing remarks to himself. He was proud of himself for that: Some of the situations Masaki had portrayed should have warranted bucket-loads of sarcasm in his book. The small man had always been perceptive, and he noticed things in the tale that he knew Aiba himself had missed. 

“He just left?” The younger man confirmed. 

“Yeah. He said he was sorry and that he wouldn’t love me, and he left.” The older man chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. “But then, he already said he never did, huh?” 

“Liar.” Ninomiya answered immediately. 

“Eh!? But I’m telling the truth!” 

“Not you, idiot.” He swatted at Aiba’s arm as punishment for his stupidity. “Sho-kun. I mean, he fell for you years ago. It just took him a long time to figure it out.” 

Masaki was taken aback by the younger mans assured assessment. As much as he wanted his friend to be correct, he did not think it likely. “You don’t know that Nino-chan.” He argued. 

“Yes I do.” The sardonic gamer gave him a smug smirk. “Let’s see… it was about the same time you were hospitalised, I guess. Sho-kun nearly worried himself sick too. After that, his attitude towards you slowly started to change. Well, his whole attitude to the group, really, but mostly to you.” Ninomiya explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And then you – Hm… I guess you sensed the change, huh? – Because you started looking at him differently too.” 

Wide-eyed, Masaki stared at the younger man in awe and fascination. “Amazing….” He breathed wondrously. “You could really tell all that?” 

“Of course; I’m a genius.” Ninomiya replied blithely. “And I have eyes. Anyone who cared to look properly would have seen it. Well… anyone who isn’t terminally stupid or romantically retarded, anyway. Which explains why it took you both so amazingly long to work it out yourselves.” 

Aiba, his gaze upon younger man was a mixture of admiration and hope. “You really think so? But Sho-chan said that he mistook friendship for love.” 

The budding magician sneered at that. “Oh, please. You two were so into each other that the ceiling could’ve fallen down around you and neither of you would have noticed. To tell the truth, I was honestly getting sick of you two making sappy eyes at each other all the time. Why do you think I dared you to kiss Sho-kun in the first place?” 

The tall young man could not suppress the giggle that bubbled up from within him. He had always enjoyed the dry, derisive wit of his younger friend. Perhaps because he knew he was incapable of such verbal dexterity, he had always found Ninomiya’s droll humour irresistible. Even the sensitive nature of the subject matter did not lessen Aiba’s amusement. On the contrary, if felt good to laugh about the absurdity of the situation. 

The blunt assessment relieved him other ways also. Ever since the breakup, Masaki had believed Sakurai’s painful explanation, even if he did not understand it. The younger mans’ testimony, however, caused him to rethink this. Clearly, his pragmatic friend had no reason to lie to him, but perhaps Sakurai did. 

This realisation only added to his growing list of unanswered questions, yet he felt all the better for it. Somehow, Aiba knew that if he could discover the truth behind Sakurai’s reasons, the rest of the puzzle would fall into place. With a renewed sense of purpose, he was able to channel his emotions towards more helpful pursuits. Such as enjoying Ninomiya’s company and playing a popular war game borrowed from his younger brother, in Co-Op mode. 

While they stormed the enemy camp on screen, their conversation flittered between various topics. Amongst commands, threats and insults, Ninomiya brought up work. “Hey, have you thought about our overnight stay in Sendai?” 

“What?” 

Ninomiya scolded the man for failing to pay attention to both the game and his question. “It’s not ‘what?’. Ah, would you look where you’re going? You just missed a power-up. Why can’t you ever use more than one brain function at a time…? And that one doesn’t work properly most of the time either.” 

“OK, OK,” Masaki laughingly apologised. “Sorry. What about Sendai?” 

“I said it already, didn’t I?” The game enthusiast did not take his eyes from the screen and spoke impartially. “We’ll be staying overnight. What are you going to do?” 

Also concentrating on the game, Aiba did not give it much thought. “Do? It’s just work, right? I’ll do that just like always, I guess…. Uwah~ Kazu-kun, he’s shooting at me! Help!” 

“Oh for the– I meant, what are you going to do about sleeping arrangements, stupid.” The man clarified impatiently. “They usually only book us two or three rooms, after all. Don’t just stand there; shoot back.” 

“I can’t, I’m out of ammo!” Masaki wailed before answering Ninomiya’s question. “Maybe Matsujun won’t mind sharing with me? Or maybe he’ll let me have the extra room to myself.” 

“I think you should– Would you heal yourself before you get us both killed!? Good. I think you should room with Sho-kun.” 

Aiba’s head whipped around to stare at the younger mans indifferent profile. “Eh!?” 

The smaller man continued over his friends’ objections. “If it’s bothering you that much, shouldn’t you be trying to get him back?” He shrugged, not once taking his eyes from the battle raging on the screen. 

“But, Nino….” Doubtfully, the lithe man turned back to the game. “Sho-chan is dating someone else now.” 

“So? You’re not going to lose to a girl, are you?” 

“But that–” 

“Geez, that guy is still shooting at you.” Ninomiya informed him. “Do something about it. You should fight back; just jump him already.” 

Aiba nodded once and took his friends’ advice literally. “Got it… um, which button is that again?” 

Ninomiya gave a bark of derisive laughter. “It’s not one you’ll find on the controller.” He smirked, finally pausing the game to regard the tall man. “I was talking about Sho-kun.” 

Masaki had to think for a moment before he understood and a faint blush coloured his cheeks. “Nino-chan…” He tried to sound stern, but Ninomiya’s irreverent attitude brought only smiles and his voice squeaked. 

“What?” The young man feigned innocence. “Sho-kun obviously still has a thing for you. Why else would he have pretty much molested you earlier?” 

“Actually,” Aiba confessed with a sheepish expression turning up the corners of his mouth. “That might have been my own fault. I wasn’t really thinking about it at the time – but I was kind of… ah, you know… flirting.” 

“I’m not sure I want any more details Aiba-chan.” His sardonic friend deadpanned. “But if your… flirting… paid off, then doesn’t that mean Sho-kun is still attracted to you? Physically at least.” The man injected a great deal of artificial distaste into his statement. 

The idea had not occurred to the taller man, but now it brought a beatific smile to his face. “To be honest,” He beamed. “When Sho-chan started kissing me, I was so happy I – it’s kind of silly but – I even leaked a little.” 

“That’s disgusting.” Ninomiya interrupted abruptly. 

It took the older man a few seconds to register what his friend had implied. “Huh…? Uh, Oh. Oh! Eww… Nino~ don’t be so perverted!” 

The sharp young man was completely unapologetic. “I’m not the one who leaked while some dude has his tongue halfway down my throat.” He sneered. 

“Uwah…! Tears, Nino-chan, I leaked tears!” Masaki gasped his face hot with embarrassment. Grinning, he shoved ineffectually at the smaller mans shoulder. “I mean I cried! Geez…” 

Naturally, the devious young Idol had known what Aiba had meant from the start; the naïve man simply made too tempting a target to ignore. Besides, Masaki had been able to talk about something painful without getting upset. Ninomiya had known the man long enough to know that the best way to pull Aiba out of despair was to make him smile about it. The versatile Idol counted many abilities amongst his talents, but it was his skill at making Masaki laugh that he was most thankful for now. He knew that when Aiba could laugh at a problem, that was when most problems disappeared.


	10. Justification

“You know, I understand that Arashi is doing really well right now, but….” Sequestered in a small barbeque restaurant in Sendai, the youngest member of Arashi was engaged in conversation with a member of the production staff. After a successful mini-live and interview for a music program, Arashi, their managers and various staff were relaxing over a meal in an establishment close to their hotel. “Somehow, don’t you think our older fans will get bored with interviews where they always ask us the same questions?” 

The inexperienced employee debated Matsumoto’s point. “I don’t think so, no. I mean, Arashi always tries to give different and interesting answers, right?” 

“That’s true, but how many variations can they think of to ask us which other member we would date? And how many ways can we answer when there are only four options?” 

A few seats away and busy lining his stomach with grilled meat, Sakurai overheard this exchange. Chewing slowly, he thought back to the talk part of the show. When the question had come up, Matsumoto and Ninomiya had filled their responses with so much unlikely detail that the show had gone to commercial before anyone else was called upon. Truthfully, the caster was not sure if the men had done it for the sake of the group or if they were just being themselves. Either way, the effect was the same; Sakurai was grateful for that. 

The few days preceding the event had been difficult for the young man. Since the ill-fated lunch with Masaki, Sho had noticed a change in the tall man. He had expected the cold-shoulder and instead received warm smiles. Aiba had said nothing of that day, yet he did not seem to hold a grudge. In fact, the younger man had been positively sparkling; sharing jokes and laughter with the group like a man on a permanent high. 

The aura of giddy happiness was actually normal for the excitable young man. It was the contrast however, between this behaviour and his attitude immediately following the breakup that gave Sakurai pause. He was suddenly forced to realise that Satoshi had been correct and himself mistaken. The rapper had thought Aiba unaffected by the dissolution of their relationship, and that had injured his pride. Finally seeing Masaki truly being himself, the older man recognised his error. 

This discovery had been painfully bittersweet. It was a relief to know that Aiba had cared about him and it gladdened Sakurai to see the lithe man so content. At the same time, he felt it was a sign of the younger man moving on and that their relationship really was over. The finality of that thought left him feeling cold inside. No matter how much his mind told him he had done the right thing, his heart did not want to believe it. 

It could not be helped, Sho decided. Even if he could risk everything for his own sake, he had no right to do so. His clumsy actions had already threatened the stability of the group once; he would not do so again. He would not be so selfish as to upset the tentative new balance they had struck. He did not want to be responsible for any more pain. 

“…listening to me Sho-kun? Sho-kun? Sakurai!” 

Startled from his ruminations by the deep baritone of his manager, the young Idol jumped. “Eh? Uh, yes? What was that?” 

The middle-aged man sighed tolerantly. “I said, it’s about time we check into the hotel; it’s late and most people have already left.” 

“Oh?” Scanning the room, Sakurai could see the truth of the mans words. The crowd that had once filled the restaurant had thinned out considerably. Of the party, only the other members and their managers remained. “Ah, you’re right. Shall we go then?” 

The educated Idol and his manager were not the only men making ready to leave; the other members seemed to have had the same idea. With practiced ease the celebrity men abandoned their respective managers to cover the bill and left together. The hotel was less than five-hundred yards away and the Idols formed a rowdy group as they walked the short distance. 

Having reached their destination in short order, they waited in the lobby for their handlers to catch up. At check-in they learned that each member had been allocated a room to himself. It was a sign of Arashi’s current popularity to be treated so well, and the men aware of this. As they made their way up to the correct floor, they remarked favourably on this. 

“Isn’t this crazy?” Ninomiya pointed out as they stepped from the elevator. “Including our managers and staff, we have an entire floor to ourselves.” 

The eldest man shrugged. “But it’s only one night. We’re going back to Tokyo first thing in the morning.” 

“Still…” Matsumoto broke in. “If you think about it, it wasn’t that long ago that we were lodging in hostels.” 

Ninomiya nodded empathetically. “Exactly. And giving us separate rooms, even though it’s only one night, isn't that generous? I mean, it’s not like we’re not used to sharing and this hotel isn’t cheap either!” 

Sakurai grinned at the younger man. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re going to leave here tomorrow with a bag full of miniature shampoos and soaps?” He teased. 

“They’re free!” Ninomiya responded immediately; happy to mock his own penny-pinching ways in private. “And I’ve got access to a whole floor of them!” 

When the laughter died down, the tallest man added his thoughts. “It’s really nice of the program staff, I know,” He smiled. “But a whole room each… isn’t that a bit much? It seems like such a waste.” 

Pausing at the first door in the hallway, Jun clapped him on the back. “You shouldn’t think so much, Aiba-chan.” He grinned as he used his key-card to open the door. “It’s not your job to worry about the economy – leave that to Sho-kun.” On that teasing note, he bade his friends’ goodnight and disappeared into his room. Ohno and Ninomiya occupied the next two rooms respectively. 

Sakurai’s room was the last in line, but as Aiba came to his room, he turned towards the older man. “Uh, Sho-chan, wait…” 

The caster balked mid-step. “Y-yes?” 

The young man was obviously trying to build up his courage. He took deep breaths and swallowed audibly before he could speak. “Um… actually… I just thought – you know, we haven’t really had a chance to be alone since….” Determinedly he squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. “Anyway, I want to talk to you. Can I?” 

Nonplussed, Sakurai hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” He replied carefully. He vividly remembered what he had done the last time they were alone and he did not know if he could trust himself to be in a similar situation again. 

“Please Sho-chan? It’s important. I… just – Just for a few minutes, I promise.” Having come this far, the tall man refused to back down now. “Really Sho-chan, I just want to talk. Will you come in?” 

Defeated, Sakurai gave a small nod and preceded the man inside at Aiba’s gesture. He had no right to deny the man such a reasonable request. Besides, Aiba was correct; they did need to talk. The caster was not thrilled about having this discussion so soon, but he knew it had to be done. It was time he started taking care of the mess he had made of everything. 

Within the privacy of the lavishly appointed hotel room, the two men stood facing each other. The silence stretched before them as they both mentally prepared for what was to come. To Sakurai, it felt vaguely like he was readying for battle. Only – he knew that this time – neither side would win. But he could not afford to run away anymore. He had to face the younger man and explain himself. Even if he could not tell the whole truth, a small measure of it might help put Aiba’s mind at ease. 

“Aiba-chan,” He bit the bullet and spoke first. “I’m sorry, I know I didn’t handle things well and I….” Stumbling under the force of the others mans searching gaze, Sakurai took a deep breath and tried again. “I know it seemed sudden –– I never should have just stood you up like that. I haven’t been fair to you and I’m sorry. Can you… can you forgive me?” 

“I was never angry at you.” The willowy man breathed. Slowly, he began to pace the room as the rapper nervously tracked his progress. “…I can’t be mad at you…. I just don’t understand. Did I do something wrong Sho-kun? Did I upset you somehow?” 

The unexpected use of the slightly less familiar honorific on his name tore at the man almost as much as Aiba’s questions. “No, Aiba-chan.” He choked out. “No, it’s nothing like that.” 

“Then what!?” The young man cried roughly, spinning to face the speechless caster. His eyes shone, fierce and wet, in the soft lamplight. “Why Sho-kun? If it’s about that girl, just tell me, that’s fine. If that’s your reason, I can handle it. I mean, I’ll get over it; I’m not going to hold it against you. But you never said Sho-kun, you never explained!” 

Sakurai swallowed convulsively to work some moisture to his throat. At the sight of Aiba, forceful, indignant and demanding, his mouth had suddenly become very dry. “B-but I did say–” 

“That you didn’t love me.” Aiba spoke over the top of him, bitterness colouring his voice. “That you never loved me. Yeah, I heard that.” He spat. “But that wasn’t the truth, was it? That was a lie. Please tell me that was a lie!” 

Sakurai heard the desperate plea, but did not know how to respond. With a groan he looked away from the younger man. “It– it doesn’t matter anymore…” 

“It matters! It does matter, Sho-kun. If that–” Aiba’s voice began to waver unsteadily. “If that wasn’t a lie, then that m-means… it means everything else was. Every time we were together, all things you said, all the stuff we did. Everything would become a lie.... And I don’t want that Sho-kun.” He continued gently as tears began to roll down his cheeks. “I don’t want everything to have been a… mistake. Not that, anything but that. I don’t want to think that none of it was real. It’s okay… it’s okay if you love someone else now, just don’t – don’t say that you never loved me.” 

Aiba sank to slump at the edge of the bed on his last words and Sakurai ached. His own cheeks wet, he approached the other man cautiously. Holding himself taut, he crouched in front of the younger man. “I think you’re amazing Aiba-chan.” He murmured truthfully and soothingly. He had to fight to keep his voice from breaking on his words. “You’re kind and gentle. You try so hard to make other people happy and you never think about yourself. But you should. Because, someday, you will find someone who cares about you and you’ll get married and have your own family. You have so much to offer Aiba-chan; you’ll be an awesome father someday, you know? Didn’t you ever think about that? Don’t you ever think about your future?” 

Masaki, although his pride was hurt by Sakurai’s paternal tone and evasion of the question, sensed something behind the other mans words. He could not define it exactly, but it was something that Sho had not said that gave him hope. He noticed that Sakurai had not mentioned the woman with whom he had shared a date. He also realised that the caster had only spoken of Aiba’s well-being, and that caused him to reconsider: Perhaps the man who needed reassurance was not himself, but Sakurai. Perhaps, if he could convince the caster of his feelings, Sho would come back to him. 

“I did think about the future.” Masaki insisted stoutly. “All the time. Except it was our future; yours and mine. I thought about being with you forever. Even when we got old and we couldn’t really be Arashi anymore, I thought it wouldn’t be so bad because I’d still have you. That was the future I imagined.” 

Thinking that the tall man was simply being stubborn – and dangerously tempted by his words – Sakurai got to his feet and turned away from the man. “What about family Aiba-chan?” He maintained. “If you chose that future, you would never have a family; never create a legacy.” 

“What are you talking about!?” The tall man demanded in angry frustration as he too rose from his seat. “Arashi is my legacy!” 

“What?” Surprised by Aiba’s vehemence, the rapper glanced at the man. 

“Arashi has hundreds of thousands of fans who look up to us.” He went on recklessly. “Hundreds and thousands of people who know our names and will remember them! There are CD’s, TV shows and posters and all that other stuff that will make sure we won’t be forgotten. What better legacy is there than that!?” 

The caster had never considered this angle and it shocked him that Masaki had. The argument very nearly destroyed every rationale he had for ending their relationship in the first place. There was still one point, however, that Sakurai felt was infallible. “It’s not the same.” He countered gruffly. “What about having your own children?” 

Aiba found that his tears were now born of aggravation as he tried to get through to the older man. He made no effort to stem their flow as he casually dismissed Sho’s claim. “Whatever… if I ever feel the need to play daddy, I’ll just borrow my baby cousin for a few days.” 

“Would that really be OK with you Aiba-chan!?” Sakurai cried desperately. “Your whole life, never being able to reveal your relationship? You just said you didn’t want everything to be a lie but – if you did that – your whole life would be.” 

“Who cares!?” The younger man remained obstinate. “I’m a Jonny, remember? I’m used to keeping secrets; at least I would know the truth.” 

The rapper felt himself weaken. “You deserve better than that Masaki…” He breathed with a shake of his head. 

“That isn’t about what I deserve; it’s about what I want!” 

“Than what do you want!?” He yelled helplessly. 

“You!” They both froze. “Uh, ah – I mean, I just…” Backpedalling quickly, Aiba stumbled over his words and his shoulders drooped with dejection. “I- I know you have someone else, and I’m not going to– it’s just that…. I love you Sho-chan.” He confessed, humiliation colouring and heating his cheeks. “And I need to know that you loved me back once.” 

Hearing his own thoughts reflected in the wishes of the younger man, Sho struggled to process this new information. He suddenly realised that Aiba was being painfully honest and that would have to answer like for like. Satoshi had been right; Aiba deserved the truth. “There is no one else Masaki.” He admitted. “Not really. It was just one date.” 

“Eh?” 

“I just thought it would be easier for you if you thought so.” He went on. “I thought it would be more acceptable for you that way.” 

Aiba gazed at the older man. His expression resigned, he told Sakurai exactly how he felt. “I don’t want to accept it Sho-chan. I don’t want it to be over between us. But if you don’t want to be with me…. I’ll do whatever you want, even if that means staying away from you in private.” 

The caster could not seem to wrap his head around the current situation. “That’s not what I want.” He replied at length. 

“Then what about you? What do you want Sho-chan?” The tall man asked, returning Sakurai’s earlier question and slowly closing the gap between them. 

“I just want you to have a normal future Masaki. I want you to be happy.” 

“I am happy, Sho-chan.” Aiba stated firmly, belying the tearstains that marred his cheeks. “When I’m with you. And if you’re not dating anyone, that makes me feel even better because…” 

“Huh?” Sakurai took half a step back as Aiba moved close and smiled over him. 

“At least I won’t feel guilty if I do this-” Tenderly, Aiba leaned in and pressed his lips to the mouth of the shorter man. 

The kiss was light and fairly chaste, but it was enough. Both his mind and his heart were in turmoil, but suddenly, Sakurai knew exactly what he had to do. Embracing the man in one final, fierce hug, Sakurai gently but firmly broke away. 

“Sho-chan…?” 

“I’ll see you later Aiba-chan.” The caster replied simply as he made his way purposefully towards the door. 

“What–?” 

“No more mistakes, Masaki,” Sho informed him resolutely as he left the room. “…I promise.” 

Aiba nodded; he understood.


	11. Culmination

“Sho-kun!” Banging heavily on the door to his clients hotel room, the middle-aged manager paid little heed to the late hour. Cursing, he continued to knock loudly to no avail. “Sakurai! Get out here right now!” 

While his efforts did not meet with his desired response, a door further down the corridor was opened. Poking his head into the hall, Ninomiya Kazunari glared at the man. “What are you doing?” He demanded scathingly. “It’s three in the morning, you know.”

"Ah, Nino-kun,” The businessman straightened up and bobbed his head in the barest of apologies. “Have you seen Sho-kun?”

“Nino? Who is it?” Appearing at the threshold behind the younger man, Ohno peered curiously into the hallway and at the manager. “Oh.” 

Ninomiya frowned and stepped fully out of his room. “We haven’t seen him since we got back. Is something wrong?” 

They greying man gritted his teeth in frustration. “There will be if he’s not in his room. Speaking of which….” Turing his full attention to the two men, he addressed the sleepy-eyed Idol. “Why are you in Nino’s room Ohno-kun?” 

The slight man gave a half-hearted shrug. “They’re connected.” He replied, referring to the conjoining doors in each room and implying that should be reason enough. 

“What’s up with Sho-kun?” Ninomiya pressed, ignoring the byplay between the two men. 

The businessman ran an impatient hand through his hair. “Someone on reception just told me that she thought she saw him leave earlier.” 

“So?” 

The man shot the sardonic gamer a dangerous look. “The problem is I heard it from a stranger. He can’t just leave in the middle of the night without informing someone. Especially me.” 

Ninomiya did not argue this point. One of the first things the members had given up as Idols was such personal freedoms. Idols who wandered unescorted in the night were apt to finding themselves in the tabloids and in trouble with their agency. Moreover, Sakurai was not the type who would forget this unwritten rule or to rebel against it. “I wonder what would make him leave like that…?” His words were not directed at anyone; he had simply been voicing his thoughts aloud. 

A reply did come however, but from an unexpected source. Matsumoto Jun emerged from behind Ohno to join the group in the hall. “I don’t think that is all that hard to figure out.” He yawned and squinted in the light, rubbing tired eyes from the glare. “Shouldn’t we be thinking about where he might have gone?” 

Seeing that the youngest man had also been staying in Ninomiya’s room, the businessman rolled his eyes. “All three of you? Having your own rooms really is pointless, isn’t it? I don’t know why I’m even surprised anymore.” 

“Ah~!?” Ohno’s abrupt exclamation caused all eyes to lock-on to the diminutive man. “W-what about Aiba-chan?” He asked. “I mean, Sho-kun was in his room earlier, right? Maybe they went somewhere together….” 

“They were together?” The manager repeated incredulously. 

Matsumoto explained. “Mm, yeah, we were going to listen in.” He confessed. “But we couldn’t really hear much once they were inside.” 

“As expected of a high-class hotel,” Ninomiya muttered with grudging admiration. “The walls are thick.” 

As one, the group of men focused on the room between them that was appointed to the tallest member of Arashi. Finding the door unlocked, they cautiously slipped inside. The table lamp cast the room in a warm golden glow and the four men could clearly see the rooms’ lone occupant. Aiba was curled oh his side on top of the covers with his face half buried in the pillows. 

“He’s asleep.” Satoshi whispered needlessly as the three Idols crept towards the bed. 

Jun bent over Masaki to peer closely at his face. “He’s been crying…” He murmured, taking note of Aiba’s swollen eyes and the tearstains that marred his smooth cheeks. 

Hearing this, Ninomiya muttered a sharp curse. His hands balled into angry fists at his sides. “I’ve had enough of this.” He hissed. “I don’t care if we’ve never had a proper fight before – I am seriously going to knock some sense into them both!” 

While his two friends quickly shushed him and threw retaining arms around his shoulders, the impartial manager addressed the musician calmly. “Just wait a moment.” He stated firmly. “None of us know exactly what happened yet. More importantly, we need to find Sho-kun before you ca–” 

He was cut off suddenly by the loud trill of his handheld phone. The three Idols shot him dire glares as he hurriedly drew the phone from his pocket. He paused in the act of turning the device off when he caught sight of the screen. Instead, he answered the call quickly, keeping his voice low while the Idols listened in curiously. “Yes? … Oh, he is? … I see, what do you think? … No, he’s asleep right now. … Ah, alright then, we’ll do that. … No problem. Thank you for calling me and for all your hard work. … Yes, I’ll talk to you later.” 

Matsumoto spoke immediately as the manager ended the call. “Who was it?” He demanded softly. “Sakurai?” 

“Yes and no.” The man replied with a satisfied smirk. “I know where he is.” 

Ninomiya folded his arms across his chest. “Where?” 

“I’ll explain on the way.” The manager assured them in tones that brooked no argument as he moved to leave the room. “You three wake up Aiba-chan and meet me in the car-park as soon as you can. I’ll get his manager and inform yours too.” With that, he left the room. 

The Idols were understandably confused, but the man had spoken with such authority and assertion that they could not help but carry out his order. Aiba woke groggily and sleepily followed his friends instructions. He moved as if in a trance, his eyes barely open and unfocused, he had no real awareness of the situation. He barely made a sound as he was manhandled into the backseat of the people-carrier, where he promptly drifted back into slumber. 

Sakurai’s manager drove while Masakis' manager sat with the younger men and quietly explained what was going on. “It seems Sho-kun is at home.” 

Masumoto frowned. “That’s not really a bad thing, is it?” He enquired. “We don’t have to be anywhere early; what’s wrong with going home?” 

“And…” Ninomiya cut in. “Why are we going with you? What’s the point?” 

The older man shrugged. “We wouldn’t have been able to get Aiba-chan to come without your help.” He admitted. “And we were told that it was important for Masaki to get there quickly.” 

Satoshi considered carefully before deciding to speak. “By who?” He asked at length. 

“Ah…that. Well, Sho-kun’s manager has had a man on the inside for a while.” He smirked slyly. “He infiltrated the Sakurai home and has been working as our informant during this crisis.” 

“Who?” Ninomiya demanded sceptically. “And why are you talking like a cheesy secret-agent wannabe?” 

The businessman ginned sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m talking about Sho-kun’s little brother. Apparently, his manager has had the boy keeping an eye on Sho-kun for a few years now. He’s got a real talent for it.” 

At this revelation everyone began to object and talk over each other until they were silenced by their driver and reminded that Aiba was still asleep. The remainder of the journey was uneventful save for the occasional muttered exchange between the Idols and Masaki’s sleepy murmurs. 

When they arrived they stirred the tall man to full consciousness and hustled him towards the house. It was not until Aiba came face-to-face with the pyjama-clad teenager waiting just outside the front door that he realised where he was. He drew up short. “Wha–? Am I dreaming?” 

“Shh!” The boy scolded him in a whisper. “Nobody knows that I’m up or that you’re here.” 

Ninomiya sniffed indignantly. “That’s because people don’t usually make unannounced visits at four in the morning.” 

Aiba, his mind now fully alert, looked around at the group of males – young and old – gathered in the shadows of the Sakurai home front porch. “Um…. Why are we here?” He asked sensibly. 

The teenager answered him smugly. “I invited you. My brother showed up a little while ago and has been… talking with my parents ever since.” He somehow injected the verb with so much distaste he made it sound like a curse. “But I think you need to know what they’re saying.” 

“You want me to spy on your big brother and your parents? Are you crazy?” 

The boy shrugged. “Why not? I do it all the time. Besides,” He paused to relish the anticipation of triumphing over an adult. “Don’t you want to know the real reason my brother has been schizophrenic for the last two weeks?” 

Aiba did not bother to argue. While everyone else elected to wait in the vehicle, the tallest Idol followed the adolescent through the front door. The teenager led him down the hall, stopping just before the living-room door and motioning for Aiba to listen. Masaki held his breath and did as he was instructed. 

On the other side of the door the three adults of the Sakurai household were absorbed in a serious discussion. The senior man sat patiently in his customary chair and watched his wife and child debate back and forth. The pair stood at opposite ends of the room but faced each other calmly. The man knew by how politely they spoke to one another that neither was sure where the conversation was heading. His expression carefully impartial, he observed them thoughtfully. 

The mature woman took a measured sip of hot tea and sighed over the top of her cup. “I am sorry Sho-kun, but I just don’t understand. Is there something wrong with my former student?” 

The young caster rubbed at his temples. “That’s not what I’m saying.” He insisted. “She's a cool girl and I feel like we could be good friends, but…. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with her.” 

“Well, you have only met once.” His mother began placating. “And I was with you the entire time. Perhaps it’s a little soon to expect feeling to develop, but I’m sure that if you just give it some time–” 

“You’re not listening.” Sho interrupted levelly. He was trying very hard to remain calm and not unduly upset his mother. “I’m just not interested in her like that and I never will be. I’m sorry, but that’s how I feel.” 

Hearing this statement from her grown son, the woman pursed her lips to keep from arguing. Finally, she gave a brisk nod. “I suppose it can’t be helped.” She conceded. “Then, I’ll be happy to introduce you to some others. Personally, I thought she was perfect for you, but… well, we can’t force these things.” 

“Mother…” The young man wanted to rail against his mother. He wanted to be angry at her insensitivity but he knew it was futile. He was responsible for hiding his feeling and deceiving his family; his mother had done nothing wrong. Now was the time for Sho to put things right. “I know you don’t mean to, but you are forcing things mother.” He told her gently. “It’s not you fault – I should have said from the start that I don’t want to be set up with anyone.” 

“But–” Forcibly stopping herself, the woman bit down on her bottom lip. She was not unreasonable; she simply wanted the best for her son. She knew that his hectic schedule had kept him from experiencing some of the more mundane pleasures of life and she had only wanted to help remedy that. “I know that most boys don’t want their mothers interfering with their love lives.” She acknowledged with a thin smile. “But, Sho-kun, you are not like most boys. You’re an Idol. Working for an agency that I saw claim your formative years as their own and dictate your life in a way your father and I never would.” 

Her eyes shone wetly and her hands trembling as she continued beseechingly. “You’re finally getting to the point when you can have more freedom than ever before and I want you to embrace that. I know you cherish Arashi and your work, but I want more than that for you. I want you to start thinking about yourself and your own happiness. I want you to find a person you can love just as much as your work. It’s fine if you want me to back off – I’ll do it – but please think about it Sho-kun. Think about yourself.” 

The rapper had listened quietly to his mother. He recognised the same tones of helpless concern that he had inherited from her and he wanted to put her mind at ease. For the first time he was able to see himself clearly; he was a reflection of his mothers’ careful upbringing and shared many of her familial traits. He had always thought that telling her the truth would hurt her, but he knew now that it was the deception that caused her real pain. Suddenly, Sho was not afraid of telling his mother what was really going on in his life. 

“I am.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was firm and steady, backed by the steel of his resolve. “I am thinking about myself, right now; that’s why I’m here.” 

Finally breaking his impartial silence, the older man addressed his son. “So why are you here, Sho-kun? I’m sure whatever you have to say must be very important, but your mother and I have to leave for work in just over four hours.” 

“I know dad, and I’m sorry but I need to fix this now.” The young man stated. 

“Fix what?” 

The conscientious caster clasped his hands together before him. “The thing is…. Ah, mother, maybe you had better sit down?” 

“I’m fine, thank you.” 

“Uh, well then, this–” A resounding bang from the hallway stilled his tongue. For a moment the three occupants of the living-room froze before moving to stare pointedly at the door. Rolling his eyes, Sho march over to the door and pulled it open. Finding his little brother hiding behind the frame was no big surprise, but seeing Aiba knelt on the floor at his feet rendered the rapper speechless. 

“I told you to be quiet!” The teenager hissed sullenly. 

“You tripped me!” The tall man shot back. 

Sho managed to find his voice – even if it did come out as a high-pitched squeak. “Aiba-chan?” 

The boy, seeing an opportunity to escape, sprang into action. “Well…. Goodnight!” He exclaimed cheerfully as he bolted for the stairs. 

“Wow~” Aiba smiled cringingly. “The runt is fast...” 

“Masaki…” Sho began warningly, offering a hand to pull the younger man to his feet. 

“I know, I know!” The vivacious Idol brushed off his knees and straightened to face his friend. “But it’s not my fault. I was kidnapped! Abducted in the dead of night and brought here against my will! I swear!” 

Sho shifted uncomfortably. “How long have you…?” 

“Long enough.” 

Clearing her throat meaningfully, the woman regarded her son quizzically. “Um, Sho-kun? What’s going on?” Turning to the other man she smiled. “Not that I mind you paying a visit any time Aiba-kun, but I don’t usually like to receive guests while in my pyjamas.” 

Aiba met Sho’s eye and something intangible passed between the pair. At the gentle questioning look of the rapper, Aiba smiled encouragingly and gave an assured nod. When Sho reached for his hand, the younger man laced their fingers together and stepped close to his side. The two men stood shoulder-to-shoulder as the caster addressed his parents. 

“The truth is that I’ve already found my happiness.” He told them, holding tight to Aiba’s hand for support and smiling when he felt Aiba squeeze back. 

His father sat up in his chair and kept his expression carefully grave. “I take it that you’re not talking about Arashi in general?” He enquired calmly while his wife struggled to find words. 

Sho bowed his head silently and the taller man spoke for them both. “We’re together…. Right?” He added the last part while casting the rapper a slightly uneasy glance. At his answering nod, however, Aiba continued with more conviction. “We’re together and – with your blessing – we’d like to stay that way please.” 

The mature woman seemed temporarily paralysed in shock. “…Together...?” She repeated the word numbly. 

“HA!” Slapping the arms of his chair as he pulled himself to his feet, the portly older man beamed. “You always did have a habit of exceeding our expectations, son!” He grinned as he put a steadying arm around his wife’s waist. “Isn’t that right, darling?” 

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, the woman rubbed at her cheeks and smiled self-consciously. “That’s true.” She answered her husband, then looking at the young men before her, she added: “Are you happy? Both of you?” 

“Yes,” He son confirmed stoutly. Exchanging a besotted smile with the taller man, Sho slipped an arm around his hips. “We will be.” 

“Well then,” She squared he shoulders briskly and drew her husband with her as she approached her son. “I guess I have nothing to worry about. Well… except that now I owe your sister a weeks’ wages.” 

“Huh?” Sho steeped aside automatically as his parents manoeuvred past him to get to the door. 

“I was so sure Matsu– Never mind, come on darling, it’s about we went to bed.” 

The caster found himself staring after the retreating backs of his parents in confusion. Beside him, Aiba scratched his head with a frown. “Uh, does that mean everything’s OK?” He asked slowly. 

“I- ah, I think so…” 

“What!? That’s it!?” The younger man exclaimed indignantly. “This is what you’ve been worrying about all this time? It was nothing! It was less than nothing – It was a non-issue. A whole big empty bucket load of nothing-like nothingness!” 

“Er…Aiba-chan…?” 

“Where’s the drama!?” The tall man continued to righteously. “Where’s the huge family argument cumulating in you passionately declaring your love for me? Where are the tears of recrimination and then acceptance?” 

“Um, Aiba-chan?” Sho interrupted his spiel. “This isn’t a drama, you know; it’s our life.” 

“I know!” Aiba responded defiantly folding his arms across his chest. “But I want tears Sho-chan! Geez, your family is cool and everything, but it’s just so boring. After all the crying I did over you, I was kind of looking forward to some payback.” 

The rapper wore a guilty smile as he watched Aiba work himself into an imaginary snit. “OK, OK, I got it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it more interesting for you, but I am not going through it all again just so you can have a do-over. Why are you so hyper right now, anyway?” To himself, he added an aside. “…And where did you learn a word like cumulating…?” 

“Oh, the Director used it yesterday.” Aiba replied casually. “And I can’t help it; I’m excited. I know it’s early and that you haven’t slept, but I just woke up from a particularly bad dream and I’m happy about it. Is something wrong?” 

“No.” Sho looked up at the tall man with a slow, satisfied smile and curled his arms around Masaki’s neck with a contented sigh. “No, nothing’s wrong. Not anymore… and never again.” 

Aiba nodded. “I’m glad but… maybe we should leave now?” 

“Why? I don’t think my parents would object…” The rapper pointed out with a smirk. 

“I know, but everyone is still waiting in the car.” 

“Everyone…?” His hands fell away from Aiba’s shoulders and his forehead creased as he processed the implications of Aiba’s statement. 

“I told you, didn’t I?” The younger man gave a long suffering sigh. “I was abducted!” He gesticulated wildly to illustrate his distress. “Hijacked! Snatched! Stolen from my bed in the dark and bundled into a minibus! I was totally Idol-napped. My captors are all waiting for me back in the car.” 

Shaking his head with a laugh, Sho caught Aiba’s flailing hands with his own and drew the man close. Pulling the tall man down the rapper murmured softly into his ear. “Well then, they will just have to wait a bit longer….” Taking Aiba’s lips with his own, Sho kissed the man he loved as he deserved; sweet and tender and thorough. 

It was a long time before either man even thought to rejoin their friends again.


	12. Spiral

“Hey, Sho-chan?” Sat at a low table in a corner of Sakurai’s bedroom, Aiba flipped casually through the rappers day-planner. Aiba glanced around to see the older man sitting across his bed with his back against the wall and his laptop balanced on his outstretched legs. “Do we have to go back to the beginning?” 

“What?” Looking up from his work, Sakurai waited for the man to clarify his question before he attempted to answer. 

“Well, we were together, right? Then we broke up, and now we’re together again, right?” 

“Right….” The caster nodded slowly. “Where are you going with this?” 

Aiba turned to face his boyfriend fully. “Do we have to start counting from the beginning again, or do we continue from where we left off?” 

“What, you mean for anniversaries and stuff?” 

“Yeah.” 

The older man rolled his eyes with an indulgent smile. “It was only two weeks Aiba-chan.” He reminded the man. 

“I know.” Climbing to his feet, he joined Sakurai on the bed. Automatically the caster put aside his computer to give the younger man his full attention. Aiba took advantage of the gesture to lie along the bed and rest his head in Sho’s lap. “It was the longest sixteen days of my life.” He smiled as he looked up at his boyfriend. 

“Me too.” He had the grace to look guilty as he caressed Masaki’s brow softly and dipped low to land a gentle peck to the tip of his nose. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re too nice Sho-chan.” The tall man scolded him gently. “If you don’t stop apologising, I’m going to have to do something that will really make you sorry.” 

“But I am, you know.” Sho insisted seriously. “I put you through so much and yet… the fact that you still want to be with me….” 

“Then you should stop being sorry and start being thankful instead.” The lanky man informed him blithely. “Or you’ll get boring and I’ll just have to dump you.” 

Sakurai suppressed a smile. “I’m being serious Aiba-chan. After what I did – especially that time we went back to your place – I wouldn’t blame you if you never forgave me.” 

“Ah~ that…” Squirming slightly at the memory, the younger man grinned. “There’s nothing to forgive. Honestly I… I kind of liked it; it was exciting.” 

“Aiba!?” 

“What?” Looking up at his boyfriend with big innocent eyes, the athletic Idol defended his position. “It’s not I couldn’t have stopped you anytime I wanted to Sho-chan. I’m bigger than you and my muscles have more practice than yours. Besides, a tee-shirt isn’t exactly quality bondage material. But I didn’t want you to stop. In fact, if anything, I should be annoyed at you for getting me all worked up and not sticking around to do anything about it.” He ended with a small pout. 

Finally, Sakurai gave in to the urge to smile and chuckled softly. “I’ll have to keep that in mind….” The stated ambiguously as he ran his fingers through Aiba’s hair. 

“Mm, please...” Reaching to slide the chain of Sho’s necklace through his fingers, the young man bit his lip. “I don’t want to start at the beginning.” He declared as he fiddled with the circular pendant. 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, I’m just going to keep counting.” He informed the older man resolutely. “It’s nearly our six month anniversary, after all. I don’t want to start over at zero with Zero. I’m not even going to push the date back a little. I have decided: We are going to pretend the whole thing never never-ever happened… Understood?” 

With his free hand, Sakurai clasped the hand at his necklace and laced their fingers together. “If you want to pretend that we didn’t break-up, Masaki, that’s fine with me; I’ll do the same. But I’m never going to forget what you told me at the hotel that night.” 

Aiba preened under the rappers attention. “I did say some pretty good things then, huh?” He replied smugly. 

“Yeah…” Sakurai breathed, giving a solemn nod. “You told me that you loved me….” 

“And I do.” He smirked. “But you never said it back.” 

“Didn’t I?” The caster responded with feigned innocence. “Well then–” Releasing Aiba’s hand, he rested his arm across the young mans torso. “I’ll just have to show you, I suppose?” 

“And how do you intend to do that?” Aiba enquired teasingly. 

Sho raised his eyebrows speculatively. “Well…I don’t have any handcuffs, but I do own a couple of silk ties that should do the trick.” 

“Ooooh… Sho-chan~” Sitting up, Aiba manoeuvred to straddle Sakurai’s lap and draped his arms around the rappers shoulders. “Is that a promise?” He asked, a mischievous gleam lighting his eyes as he brought their brows together and gazed at the older man. 

“Hmm…” Steadying the lithe man by holding his hip, Sakurai kissed him then. “Anything for the man I love.” He murmured against the younger mans mouth. 

Tangling his fingers in the hair at the base of Sakurai’s neck, Aiba chuckled. “And who is that?” He asked playfully between light kisses before sinking more firmly into the rapper embrace. 

“Oh, just some idiot called Masaki who doesn’t know when to shut up and let his boyfriend take advantage of his body.” 

Aiba cocked an eyebrow and rolled his hips in a very deliberate manner. “An idiot, am I?” He demanded with a sly smile. 

His efforts were rewarded when the shorter man gave a low groan. “Well, maybe not a complete idiot.” Sakurai conceded breathlessly. “And he makes up for it by being incredibly good-looking and amazingly flexible.” He added as he moved to trace the line of Aiba’s clavicle with his tongue. 

“Ah~ Then it’s a good thing that… that I have Sho-chan….” The lean man gasped out. “Because someone like that ob- obviously needs a nice stiff c– OW! You bit me!?” Aiba broke away with an indignant bark of laughter. “What was that for?” 

“Watch your language.” Sho shrugged casually. “And your volume.” He added with a grin and a sideways glance at his bedroom door. 

Aiba froze, his eyes growing wide. “Your brother?” He whispered in tones of horror. “You don’t think…?” 

Sakurai purse his lips thoughtfully, trying to hide his amusement. “Who knows? But if he is listening, he’s either about to be put off eavesdropping for life or receive some rather interesting education. Probably both.” 

“Hush! It’s not funny Sho-chan.” Masaki hissed quietly. “It’s embarrassing!” 

“Then you’d better try to keep your voice down.” The caster countered evenly, happily slipping his hands beneath the fabric of Aiba’s shirt. While the younger man shuddered pleasurably at his touch, Sakurai smiled to himself. Content, he set about the task of making sure his boyfriend was anything but silent for the next hour or three. 

* * * 

Barely more than a month later and in the middle of a busy concert tour, Arashi were taking a break from their work. The group had slipped effortlessly back to their usual harmonious norm and the drama of the –now happy– couple was all but forgotten. If it was mentioned at all, it was referred to jokingly as ‘Sakurai’s Mid-Life Crisis’ (as dubbed by Ninomiya). And as Arashi’s tenth year drew to a close, the bond between all five members was tighter than ever. 

Despite how carefree they appeared as a group, however, the men were not without their individual concerns. Having learned a valuable lesson about communication from recent events, the Idols had gathered and decided to share their worries openly. Matsumoto had made the suggestion originally, empathising how important it was that Arashi never suffer simply from lack of honest discussion. 

This was the main reason the five men were crowed together into Ohno’s hotel room just after midnight. The soft spoken leader was sprawled on his stomach at the wrong end of his bed. Beside him, Ninomiya sat crossed-legged holding a pillow he had taken from behind him and using it periodically to stifle derisive laughter. He needed it especially when Satoshi confessed to feeling that Ninomiya had not been touching him as often lately. 

“That’s not true!” The gamer objected when he had stopped laughing long enough to form whole words and sentences again. “Then… what was I doing –the whole time– in the minibus on our way here?” 

The older man paused to consider thoughtfully. “I guess…” He pouted doubtfully. “But that….” Ohno trailed off, punctuating his half formed sentiment with a shrug. 

Jun, sat atop the dresser, opposite the bed and swinging his long legs casually, intervened then. “Somehow Leader, I think you’ve just gotten so used to it that you don’t notice it anymore.” 

“Ah, you think so?” 

“Probably.” Matsumoto smirked. “Right, Nino?” 

“Geez, you’re always so spacey Oh-chan…” Very deliberately, Ninomiya ruffled Ohno’s hair then kept his hand at the older mans nape, idly caressing the short hairs at the back of his neck. “Fine, I got it. From now on, whenever I’m touching Satoshi, I’ll make sure that Satoshi knows he’s being touched. How’s that?” 

The diminutive artist seemed taken aback by the tender mocking of Ninomiya’s words and the implicit threat in his tone. Nervously he ducked away from the younger mans hand, his face scrunched with uncertainty. “That’s a little–” 

“See!?” The would-be magician turned to the other members in feigned offence. “Look, there’s just no~ pleasing some people…. Honestly, he’s more high-maintenance than Matsujun’s hair!” 

“Oi!” Matsumoto struggled to look stern while the rest of the room dissolved in paroxysms of laughter. 

“Sorry,” Sakurai bit back another chuckle. He occupied the only armchair, while Aiba sat between his legs on the floor, using Sakurai’s knees for armrests. “Sorry but–” 

The youngest Idol rolled his eyes with a tolerant smile. “Whatever. It’s mostly true anyway. But I thought we agreed to have a serious discussion?” 

Aiba grinned. “We did, but this is just how it turns out.” He stated with a careless nod. “I guess we just don’t have any serious problems right now.” 

Muttering under his breath that he had been serious, Ohno shifted to rest his chin in his hands. The action put Satoshi back within reach of the gamer and drew his attention. “I don’t know about that….” Ninomiya spoke while he offered their leader the pillow from his lap. Ohno took it without a word and rearranged himself once more. “I still think that the fact Sho-kun is living with a spy could be a very big problem.” 

Masaki tilted his head back to look at his boyfriend. “You could always move in with me.” He joked lightly. 

“You shut up.” Sakurai responded. Without missing a beat he applied pressure to the tendons at the curve of Aiba’s neck in reprimand for his unlikely suggestion. The effectiveness was lost somewhat, when he forgot to take his hand away from Aiba’s shoulder and his quick jab became an absent-minded massage. “Anyway…” Sho continued smugly with a secretive smile. “That’s already been taken care of. It’ll be a long time before my little brother is brave enough to listen at my bedroom door again.” 

The other men – very wisely – chose not to question the sudden and very obvious blush that coloured Aiba’s entire face just then. 

A few moments later, Sakurai’s expression became sombre and he expelled a heavy sigh. “But, you know… well, this is completely an ‘us’ thing–” He began, indicating that he was referring to the romantic relationship between him and the tallest man. “But… Masaki, don’t you think it’s about time we told your family about us too?” 

“No way!” Aiba objected immediately, pulling away from the cradle of Sho’s legs and half turning to regard him with wide eyes. 

Matsumoto tried to reason with the taller man. “Aiba-chan, shouldn’t you think about this? I don’t think the rest of us could handle a possible repeat of your previous situation.” 

“I have thought about it.” Aiba insisted. “And there is no way I’m telling. It would ruin all my fun!” 

His four friends all responded in exactly the same way: “FUN!?” 

The doe-eyed Idol nodded vigorously and smiled as he explained. “Right. I told my mother ages ago that I was dating another member. She’s been driving herself crazy for months trying to figure out who it is.” 

“You’re kidding, right?” Sho asked hopefully. 

“Nope. She has theories…. Right now, she’s certain that it’s Nino-chan.” 

The gamer blinked at the mention of his name. Catching Ohno casting him a side-long glance, he reacted by swatting at the older man with a snort. “Why are you getting upset? It’s not even true!” 

“It’s not.” Aiba agreed readily. “But she’s convinced herself. Remember when I went home upset? Well she guessed it was because I’d had a fight with whoever I was dating. Then, because I left my phone in my jacket, she saw that you kept trying to call me. That’s when she decided it was Kazu-kun. So she picked up the phone, pumped you for information, laid on the guilt and invited you over… to apologise.” 

“Uwah~” Ninomiya held his sides as he rocked in barely contained glee. “So calculating! I knew there was a reason I liked your mother.” 

“Yeah, and since I did feel better after we talked, she is really sure that it’s you.” 

Sakurai seemed mildly put out by this development. “So your mother doesn’t consider me at all?” He pouted slightly. 

The tall man shook with breathy laughter. “That’s not true. She’s been through everyone at least twice. But I told her I wouldn’t tell her who it is until she figures out the reason too.” 

“Reason?” 

“The reason I decided it was OK to date another member.” 

Jumping nimbly from his perch on the dresser, Jun cleared his throat loudly. “This is getting ridiculous.” He said, stating the obvious. Seeing that the eldest man was fighting to stay awake, he smirked. “C’mon guys, let’s leave Leader alone to sleep and go to our own rooms.” 

Satoshi stirred. “Don’t want to be alone…” He mumbled thickly through a yawn. 

“But it’s your turn to have the room to yourself.” Matsumoto pointed out. 

“…It’s lonely.” 

Shaking his head, Ninomiya uncrossed his legs and climbed to his feet. “What does that matter?” He asked blandly. “You’ll be asleep the second you close your eyes; you won’t have time to get lonely.” 

Ohno gave a sleepy pout. “Stay? Please.” He murmured, summoning the strength to sit up and look the two youngest men in the eye. The trio were still arguing back and forth as Sakurai and Aiba quietly left the room. 

Next door, in the room they were to share, the pair took advantage of the privacy to share a few moments of intimacy. They did nothing except stand close, each taking in the scent of the other and breathing the same air. Without words they gazed at one another with barely-there smiles and soft eyes. 

When Aiba leaned close enough that their chests met, however, Sakurai could feel his necklace pressing into his skin. The sensation was not unpleasant, but it reminded him of something that made it necessary to step back. “I have something for you.” The caster explained as he walked over to his suitcase and drew out a small box. “Since it’s after midnight, I guess I can give it to you now.” 

“Really?” The tall man beamed as he accepted the gift. Examining the small package in his hands for a moment, he dimmed slightly. “Is it really OK? I don’t have my gift with me right now – I was going to give it to you at my place tomorrow – er, I guess I mean tonight now huh? Or is it just later today? Since it’s after midnight… but it’s not that late, so–” 

“Aiba-chan~” Sakurai was amused by Aiba’s rambling confusion and touched by his genuine distress. He felt warmed by the tall mans concern even as he waved those concerns away. “It’s fine. Just open it.” 

Aiba needed no further persuasion to do as he was told. “Ah~ it’s an earring!” He grinned happily. Bringing the box up to eye-level, he studied the design carefully. “What is it…? Fishpaste?” 

“No, you moron!” The rapper laughed. “It’s just a normal spiral.” 

“A spiral?” 

The older man nodded solemnly. “A spiral. An inward spiral – that’s important.” He stressed the distinction. 

“Why?” Aiba asked simply. 

“Because, no matter how far apart and spread out it is to begin with, an inward spiral always comes together. It just keeps on growing closer and closer until it merges into one single point. But it never really stops; it just keeps going… forever.” 

Aiba’s answering smile was so bright it lit up his face and his eyes shone. “Sho…. Thank you.” He pulled the shorter man towards him and landed wet, open-mouthed kisses to his lips. And then to every other place he could reach easily. 

“Hey… Masaki?” Sakurai whispered a few minutes later while the tall man was occupied with undoing the buttons on Sakurai’s shirt. 

“Hmm….?” The younger man might also have been a little distracted in that moment by the hands that moved across his own –already bare– chest. 

“What’s the reason? Why did you decide it was OK to date me? Why is it OK?” 

“That’s easy.” Aiba replied, straightening up to slide the fabric from the rappers shoulders. “Because Sho-chan loves me.” 

“Well that’s true.” He agreed. “But… just that?” 

Aiba paused to answer sincerely. “As much as I love Sho-chan.” He amended. “And you’re not afraid to show me.” 

“Not anymore.” Sakurai promised. 

“You never were. Not in private. You’ve shown it from the very first time you woke me up because I was having a nightmare. I can see it every time you put down your newspaper so you can explain a magazine article to me. You show me all the time and I always notice, you know.” 

“I’m glad.” 

“And speaking of showing me you love me…” Aiba’s eyes sparked mischievously. “There’s a pair of handcuffs in my luggage….” 

“Eh!? Um- er, Masaki…. When did y– Where did you…? What?” Sakurai spluttered incoherently. 

Aiba, however, understood him perfectly. “Well, it was you who put the idea in my head, you know. So – I didn’t tell him what they were for but – I borrowed them from Kazu-kun.” 

The caster stared. “Nino? Why would he even own a pair of handcuffs?” 

“Who knows? I assume they’re part of some new magic trick, but…. Honestly? I’m afraid to ask.” 

Sakurai laughed. “I bet he was too.” He pointed out. Taking Aiba’s hand, the rapper led the younger man towards the bed. “It’s too bad though, because we’re not using them. Not tonight anyway.” 

Aiba pretended to object. “Aw, but–” 

“Besides…” Sakurai added darkly. “If you got them from Nino, I wouldn’t trust him not to give you the wrong key just for the fun of it.” 

The tall man’s eyes shot open. “They have keys!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story. 
> 
> The sequel story to this has been 2 chapter from completion since 2010, but I will not let it remain that way forever. Recoil, finally completed, will be posted in the coming months.
> 
> Until then, I hope you enjoyed reading this story


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